Fracindy's Version of Book 5
by fracindy
Summary: Wow! Haven't done this in a looong time! lol! Yes, I'm still alive, although barely, after the restless nights of worry and frustration I endured while computer deprived... ;)
1. An unexpected visitor

It was two o'clock in the morning, and all the inhabitants of number 4, Privet Drive, were fast asleep, and had been for several hours. All but one... One who was so preoccupied and worried, he hadn't had a proper night's sleep in weeks. One who missed his friends and his school so bad, there was no possible way he could ignore the pain-like feeling that had overtaken his mind and body in their absence. It was Harry Potter.  
  
Harry lay on his bed, fully awake, his glasses still on his nose, wondering what was happening at this very moment in the wizarding world, and asking himself for the hundredth time why no one had even taken the time to write to him yet. He would have expected his best friends, Ron and Hermione, to send him something, a note, a letter, or the invitation to stay at the Burrow that Ron had promised him at the end of last year. He would have hoped that them, at least, would be concerned with his being worried and lonely. But nothing had come...  
  
Harry shook his head. "No," he thought. "They would have written by now if they could." Maybe something was wrong. Maybe they didn't write because something had happened to them. Harry didn't even want to think about that dreadful possibility. He nervously turned over and over again in his head the painful memories of what had happened just a few weeks ago, at the end of the school year: the return of Lord Voldemort, Cedric Diggory's death, seeing his parents, and being separated from the wizarding world and the only people who cared for him all too soon...  
  
Ever since he had returned to Privet Drive, he had felt even more scared, and, for the first time since he had discovered he was a wizard four years ago, helpless and vulnerable. He had no way of knowing what was going on at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, or at the Burrow, or with all his friends or his godfather, Sirius, and if they were all safe. No way of knowing where Voldemort now was, and if he had yet regained his full powers. If he had, he could turn up on Privet Drive and kill Harry without anyone noticing, without Harry being able to defend himself. Voldemort was the most powerful dark wizard of all times, and he, Harry, was an underage wizard, who had barely completed four years of training at school.  
  
These thoughts tormented him so much that he didn't fall asleep until half past three, and even then, he kept dreaming of cold, high-pitched voices and flaming red eyes.  
  
A few short hours later, Harry woke up as someone knocked repeatedly on his door. He sleepily rubbed his eyes, and saw on the clock that it wasn't even 6:30. He also saw something else on the calendar right next to it: today was July 31st, Harry's fifteenth Birthday! How could he have forgotten about it?  
  
He sat up in bed, thinking that he had probably just been too preoccupied to remember it, when he heard a small voice come from the other side of the door:  
  
"Harry, could you come downstairs... p-p-please?" said Harry's cousin Dudley, sounding unusually both nice and scared.  
  
Dudley had said "please" to Harry - what was going on? Now wide awake, Harry shook off his blankets and went to open the door, to find a white and shaking Dudley who leapt out of his way and motioned him downstairs.  
  
Wondering what this was all about, Harry went down the steps and found his Uncle Vernon there waiting for him, his face a sort of palish green, and who muttered through gritted teeth:  
  
"Happy Birthday Harry."  
  
Harry's jaw dropped in amazement: this was the first time in fourteen years that the Dursleys had remembered his birthday. Harry had given up hope number of years ago that they would ever take any notice of it - least of all wish it to him. Had Voldemort come here over night and put them all under a spell?  
  
However, the explanation to this mystery was obviously in the living room: Aunt Petunia kept peering around the kitchen door where she had taken refuge and glancing into the living room with terrified eyes before gasping and turning away, and Uncle Vernon pointed a large, fat finger towards it and mumbled a few words that sounded somewhat like: "... someone... for you... waiting..."  
  
A bit apprehensive as to who he would meet, Harry walked into the room, and felt instantly both intense relief and surprise: next to the chimney, his back turned to him, stood a tall, dark-haired man clasping his hands nervously behind his back. There was no mistaking that silhouette.  
  
"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed.  
  
Sirius turned around and gave him a feeble smile.  
  
"Happy Birthday, Harry..." he said in a kind yet weary voice.  
  
Harry ran to him and started asking:  
  
"But why... when... I mean, how did you get here?"  
  
"There's really no time to explain now," started Sirius.  
  
Harry was shocked to see how exhausted he looked: he had a four or five-day beard and his eyes were all swollen from fatigue, as though he hadn't slept in days.  
  
"I've come to take you with me, Dumbledore's only just informed me. It isn't safe here anymore."  
  
"What do you mean?" asked Harry. "When was it ever safe here?"  
  
"Can't tell you right now, we have to hurry. Go grab your things and be back down here as soon as you've got them."  
  
Harry saw the look of concern on his face and thought it best to do as he said and ask questions later. He ran upstairs, got dressed, packed all of his Hogwarts materiel and his clothes, as well as his invisibility cloak, his firebolt broom, and the leather photo album of his parents - his only true belongings - as fast as he could, then went back downstairs, dragging his trunk behind him. Sirius was waiting for him at the front door.  
  
Only when he was just about to step outside did he remember his snowy owl, who hadn't come back from her nightly stroll yet.  
  
"Sirius, I have to wait for Hedwig!"  
  
"Don't worry, she'll be able to find us," Sirius replied as he pressed Harry through the door.  
  
"But... how are we travelling?" asked Harry, puzzled to see they weren't using Floo Powder. "You didn't come on Buckbeak, did you?"  
  
"Of course not," smiled Sirius. "You'll find out soon."  
  
Harry gave only one look back at the Dursleys, who were cowering in a corner of the hall. Whatever it was he was leaving for, dangerous or not, it had to be better than what he had been enduring the past few weeks, isolated as he had been. He followed Sirius out onto the road.  
  
He hadn't even walked three feet, however, that he already had to stop as he gasped for breath.  
  
"Hum, Sirius?" he said, panting from the effort of trying to carry his trunk. "Do you think you could..."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry Harry," said Sirius as he walked towards Harry. "Don't know where my mind is... Been a bit preoccupied... I'll take care of that for you," he added, looking at the trunk and pulling a brand-new wand out of his pocket.  
  
At this, through the open door, Harry saw the Dursleys scream in terror and run up the stairs. Sirius looked at them in exasperation and muttered:  
  
"Muggles."  
  
He then looked up and down the street, but no other Muggles were in sight. So he whispered a spell (unknown to Harry), and a few sparks flew out of the wand before landing on the trunk, which instantly began shrinking, and jumped into Sirius' hand, now the size of a walnut. He gave it to Harry:  
  
"You'll want to hold on to that, make sure you don't loose it. Happens to me all the time."  
  
"What spell was that, Sirius?" Harry asked, happy to see magic around him once more.  
  
Sirius smiled. "Well, its name is very explicit: it's simply called a shrinking spell. There are shrinking potions, and shrinking spells. Personally, I think the spell is much simpler, but you really need to get the grip of it before you start using it, or else the object you used it on can just go on and on and shrink until it's disappeared. I reckon your father once tried it on one of the school's best broomsticks," he added, laughing silently at the thought of it. "The Quidditch captain was so mad at him, he wanted to kick him out of the team; but then, he really couldn't afford losing a player like James..."  
  
He had finished the sentence in a rather quiet tone, talking to himself more than to Harry. Harry knew that his father had been Sirius' best friend, and he could just imagine the feeling of pain and sadness that he had experienced at his death. Harry could understand it very well. If anything ever happened to Ron or Hermione... He forced that idea out of his head, and asked Sirius instead:  
  
"Where did you get the new wand?"  
  
"Well, no wizard worthy of that name can possibly go wandering without a wand, now, can they? Dumbledore found one for me."  
  
"You've seen Dumbledore? After - I mean - since... since the end of last year?" Harry's throat tightened painfully as he pronounced these words. Remembering the Tournament was always hard.  
  
"Yes," grunted Sirius, his face hardening as he too recalled the event that had him, Harry, and Dumbledore meeting together. "Been helping me get around other than in my Animagi form."  
  
An even worse feeling settled in Harry's stomach as he realised something. "Sirius, shouldn't you be careful not to be seen? I mean, I know it's early and everything, but it's already daylight. Someone is bound to notice you..."  
  
Sirius was considered an outlaw in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds. Only a few people knew him to be innocent.  
  
"I'd much rather a few Muggles spotting me than someone trying to come and attack you," Sirius responded. "At least, if someone comes, I'll be ready to fight right away."  
  
"Attack me?" started Harry, but Sirius cut him short.  
  
"We're not going far anyway..."  
  
"Where are we going?" Harry asked, realising that he still had no idea of how they were going to find means of travelling in a Muggle neighbourhood.  
  
"I can't tell you where we're going just yet. But I can tell you how: have you ever travelled by portkey?"  
  
Harry nodded slowly. He had done it several times last year, and, finally, had been unfortunate enough to touch one that transported him directly to Lord Voldemort. Sirius seemed to remember this only now, because he added, suddenly looking sad:  
  
"Oh... that's right... I'm sorry..."  
  
But it wasn't long before Harry thought of something else, something which puzzled him enough to forget momentarily his preoccupations:  
  
"But how can there be portkeys around here? There aren't any other wizards or witches who live in this neighbourhood."  
  
"Actually, Harry, there are," said Sirius.  
  
He smiled at the look of astonishment on Harry's face, and added: "But they weren't the ones who prepared the portkeys... You see, since you left Hogwarts a few weeks ago, things have changed - just a little, but we got some other people to believe us, especially because of the current events, and who started helping us by, for example, setting up portkeys and secret rendezvous points all over the country..."  
  
"What events?" interrupted Harry. He had a nasty feeling about Sirius not wanting to tell him what was going on.  
  
But Sirius disappointed him once again. He sighed very deeply before answering: "I'd rather not tell you now. You'll find out for yourself, all too soon..."  
  
Harry found himself starting to panic a little: what if there was nothing left of Hogwarts, or Hogsmeade, or Diagon Alley or the Burrow, and Sirius simply didn't want to tell him the truth?  
  
They had been walking in silence for a moment when Harry, looking up, realised that they were going by Mrs Figg's house, the old lady that use to watch over Harry on Dudley's birthday every year. Harry hadn't seen Mrs Figg once since he had come back from Hogwarts, and as they went past the house, he noticed that all the shutters were closed and none of her cats were in sight. He was wondering if she was sick, and maybe staying at the hospital, when Sirius suddenly said:  
  
"Of course, they could have used Arabella Figg's house for the Portkey, but I guess they just thought it would be too easy a target now that she's gone."  
  
Harry's eyes opened wide:  
  
"You know Mrs Figg?"  
  
"Of course I know Arabella!" laughed Sirius. "Who doesn't?"  
  
Seeing that Harry manifestly didn't understand what he was talking about, he continued:  
  
"Arabella is a very famous witch. Worked with Dumbledore a long time ago. She's a very powerful witch, Harry... That's why she was chosen to watch over you while you lived with the Muggles."  
  
Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing: the old Mrs Figg, with all her annoying cats and her horrible chocolate cake, was a witch? And she had been watching over Harry all these years without him knowing it...  
  
"Didn't you know?" asked Sirius, frowning at the expression of puzzlement on Harry's face.  
  
Harry shook his head.  
  
"No... No one ever told me there were other witches and wizards around here... And no one told me that I needed someone to look after me while I was living with the Dursleys."  
  
A feeling of bitterness overcame Harry's mind: all the times he had felt lonely and worried, so far away from the wizarding world, and there had been magical folk living a couple of streets down... Why didn't anybody ever bother to tell him?  
  
But something else was on Harry's mind, now. Why did he need all this protection? First Mrs Figg, now Sirius... He could only think of one reason: Voldemort was looking for him again. Which meant that he was putting whoever was around him in danger, too.  
  
When he expressed his concerns to Sirius, the answer he got only confirmed his fears:  
  
"Well... Voldemort is looking for you, Harry," said Sirius, looking uncomfortable. "But then, he has been ever since he lost his powers fourteen years ago. Is it revenge he seeks? I don't know... There are a lot of questions that no one, not even Dumbledore, knows the answer to. All I can tell you is that with Arabella gone, you were in danger at Privet Drive, and that's why you have to come with me."  
  
"But..." started Harry, stopping suddenly on the sidewalk. He frowned and looked at Sirius, and before he had really thought of what he was saying he blurted out: "I mean - if Voldemort is after me, and he knows that I was at Privet Drive, well... won't the Dursleys be in danger, too?"  
  
Sirius raised his eyebrows:  
  
"Well, I guess I never really thought about that. I'm surprised you did. I mean, after the way they treated you..."  
  
"Just because I hate them doesn't mean I want anything to happen to them," interrupted Harry hotly and speaking very quickly, amazed at his own words.  
  
Sirius stared at him. He seemed to be doing some thinking. After a few seconds of silence, he said in a kind of exasperated, yet admiring tone:  
  
"Well, you're a lot more forgiving than I would have been..."  
  
Then, slowly: "Your father was that way. Always trying to make me keep my temper."  
  
There was an embarrassed silence.  
  
"Sirius, I didn't mean to." started Harry, afraid that he might have offended him.  
  
But Sirius interrupted him. "It's nothing, Harry. I'm rather glad to see that your father isn't entirely gone: you're just like him, in many, many ways... I'll take care of the Muggles as soon as we reach our destination," he added, almost apologetically.  
  
But Harry wasn't listening anymore. "I'm just like my father", he thought. He wasn't sure if this made him feel more happy or scared: if everyone expected him to be a hero like his father, what would they think if he turned out to be a pitiful, good-for-nothing wizard?  
  
But he didn't have time to worry about that too long as they had arrived to the place the portkey was hidden. They were in a small park with a couple of broken swings and an old rusty bench. Harry looked around for the portkey, knowing that it would probably be a very common sort of object, like a newspaper, or an old bottle, which were used so that they would go unnoticed by Muggles. But Harry couldn't spot it. Sirius seemed to be having trouble finding it too; he walked back and forth across the park, scanning the ground, searching through bushes, muttering to himself. "What an idea, using a sock for a portkey in a big park like this... Hate portkeys... So inconvenient..."  
  
Then he said, still talking to the ground, but obviously addressing Harry:  
  
"If it wasn't so dangerous to apparate, right now, I'd teach you how to do it, we could travel ten times as fast..."  
  
"You would teach me how to apparate?" asked Harry in amazement. "But aren't you supposed to have a license? And... isn't it very hard to do?"  
  
"Nonsense!" said Sirius. "A brilliant mind like you could learn how to apparate in about five minutes..."  
  
Harry blushed, but once again wasn't sure whether he was worthy of such a compliment.  
  
"As for the license," said Sirius in a tone that strongly reminded Harry of the Weasley twins when they were up to mischief, "I don't think the Ministry would have the time to come after you right now - not with all the trouble they're going through."  
  
Sirius seemed very pleased indeed by the 'trouble' the Ministry was experiencing.  
  
"But why is it dangerous to apparate now?" asked Harry, suddenly feeling excited.  
  
"Well, ever since Voldemort came back, strange things have been happening, I've told you that before. One of them is the spells that the Death Eaters have been conjuring all over the country, and that make apparating impossible, or very dangerous at the least."  
  
Harry was wondering how the process of apparating could be stopped, when Sirius gave him a much better explanation:  
  
"Last week, old Phillipus Cantarini tried to apparate from his home to Diagon Alley - more precisely, to the Leaky Cauldron, where he goes in secret every night to get a drink. Only somehow, the apparating went wrong, and he found himself stuck with an arm and leg in the Leaky Cauldron, and the rest at home," he said, chuckling at the thought of it. "His wife had forbidden him to go back there, so you can guess how angry she was. I reckon it took three days to get him fixed... Which was nothing compared with what it took to unhex him."  
  
Sirius had barely finished his last sentence, when he exclaimed in triumph:  
  
"I've got it!"  
  
Harry ran to him and found him kneeling behind a tree. And, sure enough, an old ragged sock was lying at the foot of the trunk. Harry knelt down next to him.  
  
"Okay, Harry. Ready?"  
  
"Ready."  
  
They both touched the portkey at the same time and almost immediately everything began to spin around Harry. He felt himself becoming lighter, travelling through the air, except it wasn't really air - it felt more like going through very thick clouds. He then came to a sudden halt and fell to the ground, Sirius next to him. 


	2. Of Goblins and Elves

It took Harry a minute or two to overcome the feeling of dizziness that always came when travelling by portkey. He thought he heard Sirius say:  
  
"Wait here for a minute, I'll be right back."  
  
When he finally stood up and took a look around him, he saw that he was in a place he had never come to before: he was in a small, filthy pub, quite empty, where only a few strange-looking people sat at different tables across the room.  
  
He looked around for Sirius and spotted him at the counter, talking to what had to be the owner of the pub. Harry saw him point a finger to a table way back at the end of the room where a pair of goblins were having a drink. Harry thought this was very odd, as goblins usually never allowed themselves to be seen in such places. However odd he thought this was, he was even more astonished to see that Sirius was walking towards them, and by the way they looked up at him when he came to the table, they had been expecting him.  
  
Harry tried to figure out the meaning of this. What possible business could Sirius have with goblins?  
  
Harry concentrated on cleaning his clothes, which were covered with dust from his landing on the floor, and when he glanced over at the table again, he saw that Sirius and the goblins were involved in what seemed to be a deep conversation. Harry knew that he wouldn't know what this was all about until Sirius was done, so he walked over to one of the windows and looked outside, trying to figure out where they could be.  
  
The landscape - if you could really call it a landscape - was composed only of hills; sad, dark, desolate hills, with just a few trees here and there, and no other sign of life or human activity than the pub where he was standing right now. There wasn't even a road in sight, just a sort of trail that led to the top of a hill and disappeared from Harry's view on the other side.  
  
Harry looked back at the table. Apparently Sirius and the goblins were done talking and were now biding farewell. Sirius looked slightly angry. He walked up to Harry, leaving the two goblins at their drinks.  
  
"Never try to make a compromise with those creatures," he said in an exasperated tone. "Far too mistrusting. They never take your word for anything. Don't know why Dumbledore chose them, of all people..."  
  
"What kind of a compromise?" Harry asked, curious to see what Dumbledore wanted from the goblins.  
  
"Can't tell you that... Not yet, anyway. You can ask Dumbledore when you see him, maybe he'll be willing to tell you."  
  
Harry didn't argue, although he knew it would be a very long time until he saw Dumbledore again. It was barely the end of July, and school didn't start until September.  
  
Perhaps because of the look of disappointment on Harry's face, Sirius chose this moment to tell Harry: "I haven't given you your birthday present yet."  
  
And he pulled out from one of his pockets a small, black ball, and handed it to Harry, who took it with slightly trembling hands: this was the first birthday present Sirius had ever given him, if you didn't count, of course, the firebolt broom he had sent him two years ago - and was enough, Harry thought, to make up for a thousand birthdays.  
  
"Thanks!" said Harry, his voice quivering a little.  
  
He held the ball up to his eyes so he could see it better, and as he did so, he thought he heard whispering coming from it.  
  
"It's a translator," explained Sirius. "It'll translate any form of language - humans', creatures', animals' - into the one you understand. In your case, English. Or, if I dare say, Parseltongue."  
  
Harry stared at Sirius in numb disbelief: was he mocking him? A Parseltongue was someone who could talk to snakes. Few possessed this gift, and those who did were often considered evil. However, this didn't seem to be Sirius' opinion:  
  
"There's no shame in being a Parseltongue, Harry. Quite the contrary, in fact. It's a very valuable gift, that, in time, I believe will probably reveal itself to be very useful."  
  
Harry smiled at Sirius gratefully: he was glad that him, at least, didn't think that his being a Parseltongue made him a malevolent person.  
  
"Now, why don't you give it a try," Sirius added, pointing at the translator.  
  
Harry didn't have to be asked twice: he spotted a couple of elf-like creatures sitting at a table nearby and approached them cautiously, pretending to get a better look out of the window. The elves had a sort of nasty, evil look in their eyes, something he had never seen with house- elves, who were kind, hard-working, and some of the most submitting creatures he had ever seen.  
  
Harry wondered what sort of elves these two were, and as he came closer to them, the translator next to his ear, he could hear them speak very quickly, in a language he didn't think he had ever heard before.  
  
As he came nearer and nearer the translator's whispers became a lot clearer, until at last he was able to follow everything they were saying:  
  
"The day the Ministry will recognize us as civilized creatures and worthy of being part of it," was saying one of the elves, "that's the day I'll trust them. Not before. I really don't understand why they're doing this. Very fishy indeed, this whole thing."  
  
"Not only that, but they've been doing it with a whole lot of different creatures, which could be very dangerous for them," added the other elf with a nasty grin. "I think this is where we should come in and do our part."  
  
"Yes, that could be very interesting, couldn't it? Teach them a lesson, we shall."  
  
Harry listened carefully, somewhat worried at their conversation. Could this be a plot against the Ministry? He wasn't particularly fond of the Minister of Magic himself, Mr Fudge, but Mr Weasley, Ron's father, worked there as well.  
  
He slowly walked back towards Sirius who was waiting for him next to a glass-shaped portkey.  
  
"Work fine?" he asked with a smile.  
  
"Yeah, thanks Sirius."  
  
"Well then, you ready to go?"  
  
"Yes," answered Harry, not sure whether he should tell him about the elves' conversation or not. He finally asked: "What kind of elves were those?"  
  
"Actually, they're not really elves, Harry." said Sirius in an undertone, as though fearing that the creatures might overhear him. "Notice how tall they are compared to normal elves? We're not really sure what they came from, they're the only ones who do, but a lot of people say they're a cross between wild elves and trolls."  
  
"Trolls?" asked Harry in surprise. "But aren't trolls supposed to be really stupid? Those creatures didn't seem stupid at all, to me..."  
  
"That's because they're not. They're actually some of the meanest, slyest, and most cunning creatures you'll come to meet. But they don't really have any magical powers; that's why nobody worries about them too much."  
  
The fact that they didn't have any magical ability was a little comforting to Harry, but still, he wished he hadn't listened to them. It only made him feel even more uneasy.  
  
"You all right?" Sirius asked. "Looks like you've got a lot on your mind..."  
  
"I'm fine..." Harry answered, trying to sound confident. "Yeah, I'm ready, let's go."  
  
Sirius nodded and they both took hold of the portkey at the same time, and Harry found himself found himself spinning very fast again. It was actually kind of fun, after you'd gotten used to it...  
  
A few seconds later he was thrown to the ground, which appeared to be a soft, smooth carpet. Harry got up a lot quicker than the last time, and found himself to be in quite an extraordinary room: there were very tall shelves against the walls, covered with what must have been thousands of books, and dozens of very odd objects, anything from glass balls to strangely live-looking wooden animals, and even a few trophies here and there. In the middle of the room there stood a very low table, which, Harry was surprised to see, appeared to have no legs. Around the table were a couch and two large, comfortable armchairs, and, in a corner in front of a fireplace, a sort of bench covered with dozens of pairs of socks, Harry noted in amusement. The general aspect the room reflected was that of a cosy, warm, welcoming place, and Harry was strongly reminded of Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts.  
  
Sirius had gotten to his feet and was now standing next to him, apparently quite amused at the look of fascination on his godson's face.  
  
"Any guess as to where we are?" said Sirius, smiling.  
  
Harry was just wondering if this might have been Sirius' house, when he heard a well known, pleasant voice behind him say:  
  
"Good morning, Harry."  
  
Harry turned around and stared in amazement at the familiar figure of Dumbledore, who was standing in the doorway, beaming at both him and Sirius.  
  
"But..."started Harry, "What are you... I mean - what is this place?"  
  
"This, Mr Potter, is my home."  
  
Harry and Ron had always wondered where Dumbledore spent the summer holidays, but it had never occurred to them that Dumbledore actually lived some place else than Hogwarts. Now that he thought about it though, Harry figured that it was mere logic: why shouldn't Dumbledore have his own house? Another thought then crossed his mind: what if Dumbledore had a wife? The simple thought of it was so ludicrous that Harry chuckled out loud.  
  
Sirius stepped forward to shake hands with Dumbledore:  
  
"Albus... I'm glad we've made it."  
  
"Sirius, my dear friend, it's good to see you. And in good health! I was beginning to get worried when you didn't send me an answer."  
  
Harry noticed that both men seemed to have great respect for one another: they just stood there, smiling at each other for several seconds, before Harry coughed loudly to remind them of his presence.  
  
"And Harry, of course," Dumbledore added, walking towards him. "It's always a pleasure to see you, my dear boy..."  
  
Harry felt himself blush a little. He knew that Dumbledore had a 'liking' for him; but then again, he had a liking for all of his students. "That's how good a headmaster Dumbledore is," he thought, shaking his warm hand.  
  
"I hope you've spent an enjoyable holiday up until now, Harry?" Dumbledore asked kindly, sitting down in one of the armchairs, and motioning Harry and Sirius to do the same.  
  
"Well..." Harry started, but immediately interrupted himself. Memories of his locked door at Privet Drive and the less-than-friendly expressions he got from his relatives' every time he approached them flashed through Harry's mind - as did the thought of this empty desk and owl cage. No letters. From no one. But he realised it would sound quite rude to complain, and answered instead, "Yes, quite enjoyable, thank you."  
  
Sirius shifted uneasily in his chair. Harry gave him a sideways look: he knew that Sirius hated it when people mistreated his godson, and clearly he didn't like the idea of overlooking what the Dursleys had done to him this summer.  
  
Dumbledore seemed to have noticed this too, because he looked Sirius straight in the eyes, still smiling pleasantly.  
  
"Yes, Sirius?'" he asked.  
  
Sirius didn't say anything, although apparently burning to do so.  
  
Dumbledore then added, "I trust you've been keeping an eye on Harry."  
  
"I've been trying to." said Sirius. "I know you've been."  
  
Dumbledore smiled and nodded. There was a look in his eyes Harry couldn't understand; it was almost like he was talking to Sirius through them. Sirius nodded back, a twinkle in his eye. They both looked very satisfied about something.  
  
Harry now had the impression that he was being completely left out. He didn't understand what Dumbledore and Sirius were plotting, but it made him feel like he was intruding.  
  
He was just considering asking Dumbledore if he should go for a walk, when Sirius told him: "Harry, I believe you had a question for Professor Dumbledore?"  
  
Harry stared at him, wondering what he was talking about. Then he remembered:  
  
"Oh yes! Um... Professor? I... I was wondering if you could tell me about the goblins..."  
  
"The goblins, Harry?" repeated Dumbledore, raising his eyebrows.  
  
"Yes. I mean... the goblins Sirius met in that old pub where we were earlier... Why did you want him to talk to them?"  
  
"Ah, Harry... Curious, as always, I see?" Dumbledore responded, a large smile visible behind his thick beard.  
  
Harry was starting to regret he had even asked him this question; it was probably secret business, and after all, it didn't really concern Harry. However, to his great surprise, Dumbledore looked at him, sighed deeply, and said:  
  
"Well, I guess... Yes... It probably is time we started telling you about what's going on. What do you think?" he added, turning towards Sirius. "He is your godson; it's up to you to decide."  
  
After a second, Sirius nodded slowly and gravely.  
  
"If that's what he wants, then I think he should know..." he said, giving Harry a piercing look.  
  
Harry felt both excited and apprehensive. This had to be important.  
  
As Dumbledore and Sirius both kept staring at him, apparently in expectation, Harry said hesitantly:  
  
"Yes... Yes, I do want to know."  
  
"Very well, then Harry..." started Dumbledore. "I think the fairest thing to do is to ask you if have any other questions you want an answer to, first."  
  
Harry wondered if Dumbledore had read his mind: he was just about to ask him if he had any news of Hermione or the Weasleys. When he expressed his concerns about them not writing to him, Dumbledore smiled widely and said:  
  
"You will be pleased to know that all of your Hogwarts friends are perfectly safe, and enjoying the holidays very much! Except maybe for Mr Ronald Weasley; I believe his brothers have been picking on him, again..."  
  
Sweet relief swept over Harry. Anything Dumbledore said, he believed: he had never lied to him before, and Harry knew he never would.  
  
But then, if they were fine, why hadn't they written to him?  
  
As if answering his silent question, Dumbledore said:  
  
"Although I'm afraid I did have to forbid your friends to send you any mail..."  
  
Harry's eyes widened: it was Dumbledore! It was his fault Harry hadn't got any letters! He couldn't believe what he was hearing... He then suddenly realised that Dumbledore wasn't done talking yet.  
  
"... as it would have been an easy way for eventual enemies to find out where you were hiding; all they would have had to do is follow the owls, and the poor creatures would have led them straight to you without even knowing it."  
  
Harry felt guilty at once for criticizing Dumbledore. He was trying to protect him, not isolate him... Still - it didn't make sense in Harry's mind.  
  
"But sir... Voldemort already knew that I was staying in Privet Drive, so what difference would the owls have made?"  
  
"Ah, but you're not in Privet Drive now, are you?" said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "And if someone wanted to find you now, following an owl would be the easiest way."  
  
It struck Harry that Dumbledore, once again, was right, and that he had had a good reason for forbidding his friends to write to him. A few seconds ago, Harry was rather angry at him: now, he felt very grateful for what he had done.  
  
Harry couldn't think of anything to say: despite his dozens of questions, the lack of rest from the previous night was finally catching up with him, and he was also quite hungry, as it must have been around noon, and he hadn't had any breakfast. Soon, he felt his eyelids begin to droop, and try as he might, he couldn't concentrate on his conversation with Dumbledore anymore.  
  
"Shall we continue later, then, Harry?" Dumbledore asked in a gentle voice.  
  
Harry nodded, and as Sirius and Dumbledore started talking in hushed voices, he felt himself becoming drowsy, lying on the comfortable couch, and finally he fell into a deep sleep. 


	3. Of Aprons and Fireworks

A few hours later, Harry awoke to find himself in a very high four-poster bed, in a room unknown to him. He was supposing this had to be one of Dumbledore's guestrooms; but then, he asked himself, did Albus Dumbledore receive guests very often?  
  
As he looked around the room, he came to the conclusion that Dumbledore probably hadn't ever had any company in his house, or at the very least, in this particular room, for it was even more odd-looking - and most definitely inconvenient for guests - than the one he'd been inside when he had arrived: dozens of flying objects were dangling from the ceiling, fighting to get free; a few bewitched old owl cages were stacked in a corner; and, of course, there were piles of books everywhere, including under the bed, on the bed, scattered on the floor, on the shelves, and even a few climbing up the walls.  
  
Harry climbed out of bed, which was quite a struggle as it kept insisting on pulling him back inside the covers, walked across the room, trying (and failing) to dodge flying objects as well as the books that were on the ground, and had yet again a nasty shock as he reached the door when a book he had inadvertently stepped on jumped on his leg and bit him.  
  
When he had finally made his way downstairs to what he was assuming was the kitchen (even though it hardly looked like one), he found Dumbledore wearing a flowery apron and humming to himself, while frying eggs... Muggle fashion!  
  
Harry tried hard to suppress the burst of laughter that had just escaped him, but it was too late: Dumbledore had heard him.  
  
He turned around and smiled pleasantly at Harry. "Ah! You're back, Harry! I trust you slept well?"  
  
Harry merely nodded, as he was still trying to muffle his laughs and didn't trust himself to speak.  
  
"I believe you like omelettes? With lots of mushrooms in them?"  
  
Harry nodded again, this time in surprise: omelettes were one of his favourite meals, but he wondered how Dumbledore could've known that.  
  
Harry sat down at a small table Dumbledore indicated him, right next to a terrace. While waiting for his meal, he looked out the window and, once again, tried to figure out from the landscape in which part of England he could possibly be.  
  
It was a bright, sunshiny day, and Harry could see very well the landscape that surrounded the house, but not beyond, because once again, the landscape was hills; but not like the dark, desolate hills he had seen earlier - these were green, flowering, lovely hills, with a few trees growing here and there, and in the far end of one of them, nestling between a small stream and the bottom of the hill, a dark green pine tree forest.  
  
Harry thought that this was close to what Muggles thought of as paradise... He would have gladly gone outside and wandered around, but just then, Dumbledore brought him a full plate of mushroom omelette.  
  
Harry ate heartily, and found Dumbledore's cooking to be quite delicious. Dumbledore sat down with him at the table. Only when he was almost done eating, did Harry realize he hadn't seen Sirius since he had gotten up. When he asked Dumbledore where he was, Dumbledore answered in a somewhat troubled voice, "Sirius had to leave us: an urgent affair to take care of. Most unfortunately, you were still sleeping when this message came, and I'm afraid he didn't have time to say good-bye..."  
  
  
  
Harry looked up at Dumbledore in disbelief. How could Sirius have left without even telling him?  
  
"But," continued Dumbledore, 'I'm glad to tell you that he should be back fairly soon: a few days, at the most..."  
  
Then, seeing Harry's crestfallen face, he added sympathetically, "I'm terribly sorry about this, Harry. I know you were looking forward to spending time with your godfather. And I know he was looking forward to it, too."  
  
At these last words Harry couldn't keep the burning in his eyes from showing. Ashamed, he tried to hide the tears that were threatening to roll down his cheeks. "This is no reason to cry, no reason at all..." he told himself reproachfully.  
  
Dumbledore was looking at him compassionately.  
  
"I'm afraid there's not much I can do for you, right now, Harry. I can only assure you that Sirius will be back soon."  
  
But still, Harry couldn't ignore the feeling of bitterness that overcame his mind. When he and Sirius had only just been reunited, they were separated yet again, and Harry had a very strong feeling that this 'urgent affair' concerned Voldemort. Voldemort, who had been responsible for Harry's misery ever since he was a baby...  
  
"Harry..."  
  
Harry started as he heard his name. He looked up at Dumbledore, as if in need of help, of comforting words. Dumbledore seemed to understand what Harry was looking for.  
  
"I can't offer you anything right now except for answers to your questions," he said, sadly but firmly. "If it's answers you're looking for, then I'm ready to give them to you, as long as I judge it safe."  
  
Harry nodded slowly. He did have a lot of questions, and after all, Sirius would be coming back soon. It was no use being an unpleasant guest.  
  
So he put aside the gloom that had settled in his heart and asked instead:  
  
"Yes... I do want to know a lot of things... Like, what business could you have with the goblins? And why have there been spells and curses laid all over the country by the Death Eaters? And... who are the people who joined you? And... " he added, in a slightly harsh tone, "How come no one ever told me there were witches and wizards in my neighbourhood?"  
  
Dumbledore was now wearing his usual warm smile again.  
  
"Ah! So you've heard of Arabella!"  
  
He then continued without leaving Harry the time to interrupt him:  
  
"Those are many questions, Harry! Which one shall I answer first? The goblins?"  
  
Harry nodded. The order didn't matter much to him, so long as he could get an answer.  
  
"Very well, then..." said Dumbledore, seating himself more comfortably on the chair. "The goblins, as you may have noticed, are very suspicious of humans and it is true that they are almost impossible to agree with, but they're also very intelligent creatures, and they will be very useful allies the day Voldemort decides to show himself to the world, again."  
  
"But how?" Harry asked, curious to see why goblins were so important.  
  
"Well, for one, they can keep all the money in the banks safe, which for us is a primordial preoccupation, as you can guess; we need to avoid at all costs our society plunging into mayhem. And, they can also help people keep their heads on their shoulders: goblins are not easily frightened, Harry, nor fooled, and even though most people dislike them, they're still looked up to for their cleverness, and people usually listen to what they have to say. That's why it's so important that they be on our side, and that's why Sirius has been talking to them."  
  
Harry nodded to show that he understood.  
  
"What about the curses?" he asked, remembering the story Sirius had told him about Philippus Cantarini.  
  
"The curses, Harry, alas, I cannot tell you much about, for the very good reason that even I don't know exactly what or where they appear. The only thing that's sure is that they are cast by the Death Eaters, or maybe even by Voldemort himself - and that they are preparing themselves for something, although for what, we don't know for sure, yet..."  
  
"Who's 'we'? Is Mrs Figg helping you too?" asked Harry, suddenly thinking about the old lady on crutches, and how funny it would be to see her on a broomstick.  
  
"Yes, Harry, Arabella is helping us too. She always has... She's been your protector against Voldemort if he ever returned, and also against a few eventual angry Death Eaters who would try to attempt to your life. And I apologise for leaving you in the dark all these years about your wizarding neighbours, but you will understand it was necessary for safety measures."  
  
Harry swallowed this information with a gulp: even though he had always been protected, he had also always been in danger on Privet Drive, something that seemed incredible to one who knew the neighbourhood, as it was always so uneventful and boring.  
  
"As for our other allies," continued Dumbledore, "they are simply friends or relatives of the Weasleys, for the most part, but also any witch or wizard that has expressed the desire to join our ranks. And also... A few older friends..." he finished, smiling to himself.  
  
"So the Ministry still won't recognize that Voldemort is back?" asked Harry in a dark voice.  
  
Dumbledore only sighed and shook his head.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry suddenly asked. "Sir?..."  
  
Dumbledore raised his head to look at Harry.  
  
"Yes? Have I answered all your questions, or are there other things on your mind as well?"  
  
"Actually," said Harry in a timid sort of voice, "I was wondering how you could be so sure that Hermione and Ron were all right... Because, I mean... They haven't been sending you owls, have they?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled at Harry, and replied in a mysterious tone:  
  
"I thought you'd never ask! It's actually quite secret, but I've decided I must show it to you. Would you care to follow me to my office?"  
  
Burning of curiosity at the thought of what Dumbledore was about to show him, Harry followed him up the stairs and through a thick wooden door into a circular room.  
  
And, to Harry's astonishment, they walked into Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts! Only it couldn't be Hogwarts: they hadn't travelled, and apparating onto the Hogwarts grounds was impossible...  
  
Harry took a peek outside the door and saw that everything - the rooms, the staircase, the paintings on the walls - were all the same as in Dumbledore's house. He was asking himself how this could be, when Dumbledore said casually:  
  
"I sometimes find I need my office to do some work at home. Today is one of those days. What I'm going to show you should normally be seen by Hogwarts headmasters only."  
  
He then took out a huge, old-looking, torn leather-bound book, set it on his desk, grabbed an eagle-feather quill, and motioned Harry to come nearer to him. Harry advanced and stopped a foot away from the desk, feeling a bit timid due to the solemnity of Dumbledore's tone.  
  
"This, Harry, is the very last of the Books of Seers..." Dumbledore said in an undertone, as though frightened that someone might be listening. "It's a book of great power, and is very useful to us headmasters, especially at times like these, but it can also be a deadly weapon if misused."  
  
Harry looked at the old ragged book, and was reminded of the old Sorting Hat. How could that old thing be dangerous?  
  
"What does it do?" asked Harry, feeling a bit uneasy although he couldn't determine why.  
  
"Why, it's very simple!" replied Dumbledore rather enthusiastically. "Just as any Book of Seers does."  
  
Seeing Harry's confused face, he smiled and added, "I'll show you."  
  
He opened the book towards the middle, revealing a page blackened by ink stains. Only as Harry got closer to it, he realized that they weren't ink stains at all: written in miniscule hand witting were thousands of names, some of which he recognized, but for the most part, unknown to him.  
  
Harry stood very silently next to Dumbledore as he dripped his quill in ink and started tracing an R on the page. He then added an O, an N, until pretty soon Ron's full name was written on the page.  
  
And then... Harry's jaw dropped as he saw it happen: all the letters on the page started moving, spinning around purposely, fighting their way across the paper - then, when finally all the letters had reached their destination, Harry distinctly saw a familiar silhouette grow clearer and clearer, until he could see Ron and the Burrow as well as if he were there.  
  
Ron was de-gnoming the garden (a job Harry knew he hated) and complaining loudly about it. A few seconds later, Harry saw a couple of shadows sneak up behind him with a lit Filibuster Firework and set it under his feet.  
  
"LOOK OUT!" Harry cried, but it was no use, Ron couldn't here him talking through a book, and so Harry, helpless, had to watch as Ron yelled in pain when the firework exploded underneath him, and Ron's elder twin brothers, Fred and George, roared with laughter.  
  
Then, slowly, the image faded as Dumbledore started closing the book.  
  
He chuckled. "I reckon the Weasley twins have been giving your friend a very hard time, this summer. Last time I checked on them, they had bewitched some dead spiders to make them dance in front of him."  
  
Dumbledore smiled indulgently.  
  
"At least some of us are still enjoying ourselves..."  
  
He then turned to Harry, who was still wondering if he should laugh or feel sorry about what he had just seen.  
  
"You understand what the Book does, now, don't you, Harry?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"It shows you any person whose name you write in it."  
  
"Ah! Not entirely, Harry. It only shows me Hogwarts students."  
  
Harry stared at him, bemused.  
  
"A Book of Seers in its original state would show any person whose name would be written on its pages," explained Dumbledore. "This here Book has been enchanted so that it shows Hogwarts students only, and, as you can probably understand, it's both a source of security and great danger..."  
  
He paused for a minute, looked thoughtfully at Harry, then continued, "As long as the Book is in my hands, I can protect all of my students, as I can constantly look in the Book to see if they're in any danger. Without it, I am incapable of doing so. That is why it cannot be destroyed." He sighed heavily, and gave Harry an even more piercing look than before, before continuing, "However, if the Book ever so happened to fall into the wrong hands... it would be all too easy for Voldemort or his followers to find and kill all the Muggle-born children. And also - other people they might be looking for..."  
  
Harry's heart dropped ten inches in his chest: he knew that the 'other people' Dumbledore was talking about included him.  
  
"Why did you show me this?" he asked Dumbledore after a few seconds' silence, speaking slowly and heavily.  
  
Dumbledore sighed, but didn't answer. He picked up the book, put it away in a drawer that disappeared the moment he had placed it in it, motioned Harry towards the door, and walked out behind him.  
  
"I cannot tell you right away if I will be needing you, Harry," he finally answered as they walked down the stairs. "I'm not even sure yet why I had to show the Book to you... But be assured that if the time comes when I do need your help, I will explain to you everything you need to know."  
  
Harry couldn't help but to trust Dumbledore. He was afraid of what might happen in the next few months, but it made him feel stronger to know that Dumbledore would always support him.  
  
The rest of the day was uneventful, which Harry didn't mind, as he still felt relatively tired. He took a walk in the hills with Dumbledore, and quite enjoyed his company after a while. He always had, but this time it felt different: it was more like Dumbledore was a close friend of his, or a long lost parent that had finally returned to him, and who was now catching up with him on all the time they had lost. They talked about curses and enchantments, goblins and giants, and even about Quidditch; Dumbledore happened to support the Chudley Cannons, which was Ron's favourite team as well (even though they hadn't won a single match in years). Dumbledore also spent a good deal of time answering questions Harry had about current events in the wizarding world. Harry thus learned that the Ministry was going through quite a big turmoil and all the magical folk swimming in confusion and fear, as odd and frightening things had been happening: apparating being stopped, entire households cursed by unknown wizards or witches, owls being intercepted, and many more other things that used to happen when Voldemort was at the height of his power. Only the Ministry still didn't want to recognize that Voldemort was back, and that so were his followers... Harry also found out that a robbery against Gringotts had been attempted - only it wasn't anything important: just a few wizards who were taking advantage of the ministry being in such chaos.  
  
Harry had the unnerving impression that the entire wizarding world was going mad. When he expressed his concerns out loud, Dumbledore replied in a firm voice that somewhat reassured Harry:  
  
"Now, Harry, you know how the Ministry handles things... And you also know what I think of their methods," he added in an undertone. "But, of course, what I think is not, and should not, be important to you. All you need to know is that Cornelius Fudge still refuses to admit Voldemort has returned, but that a few influent wizards are starting to finally realize the truth - and that is what is causing the most part of the confusion. Hogwarts is as safe as it ever was, and our allies are working right now on keeping things from degenerating. So after all these precautions, Harry, I think it is safe to say that Voldemort hasn't taken over yet... and will not be able to do so for some time."  
  
Still, sleep did not come easily for Harry that night - for several reasons, in fact. One of them was that Harry's bed, the same he had slept in earlier and that seemed so keen to keep him lying down, was now trying very hard to make him fall off, and Harry had to grip the covers tightly to not be thrown at the other side of the room. Another reason was Sirius - Harry knew that he would be coming back soon, but he still couldn't help feeling very anxious about him. Dumbledore hadn't specified what type of 'mission' Sirius had just left on - maybe it was very dangerous? Harry didn't think he could bear it if anything happened to him; quite apart from the fact that he had grown very attached to him, Sirius was also Harry's only hope of moving away from the Dursleys.  
  
And then, of course, there was Voldemort. Voldemort, who was slowly but surely regaining his full strength; Voldemort, who had gathered most of his followers by now, and was probably planning on the best way to make himself known unto the wizarding world again. And when he returned - because he most definitely was going to - would he bring back the terror that had once reigned as well?  
  
But Harry then thought about the Book of Seers, and what he had seen in it, which comforted him a bit: the Weasleys were safe, and so were Hermione and all of the other Hogwarts students. And, as long as Dumbledore was at Hogwarts, the next school year would be just as safe. Well, as safe as it could get, anyway, what with all of the adventures and injuries Harry usually experienced. 


	4. The moving house

When Harry woke up the next morning and made his way to the window for a bit of fresh air, he nearly fell out of the window in shock: where there had been yesterday green hills and forests, lay an ocean, its waves breaking lazily on a rather rocky beach, and seagulls flying everywhere. Harry rubbed his eyes a few times, looked out the window again, but still, the ocean was there. He then made his way across the room (a lot quicker than the day before) and ran down the stairs to Dumbledore. He found him speaking to Fawkes, his phoenix, in the living room.  
  
"Ah, good morning, Harry!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I hope that bed of mine hasn't been causing you too much trouble again?"  
  
Harry looked at him, astounded. Did Dumbledore not even notice the change of landscape? Or was Harry dreaming?  
  
"But, professor..." he stammered, taken aback by Dumbledore's perfectly normal-looking behaviour.  
  
"Yes, Harry?"  
  
"Didn't you notice the... the ocean outside?" Harry finished quietly, feeling quite foolish. What if there was no ocean at all?  
  
To his astonishment, Dumbledore replied joyfully, "Oh, yes! Very nice place, isn't it? Quite pleasant; and a wonderful weather, too!"  
  
Dumbledore chuckled at the bewildered look on Harry's face and explained:  
  
"This house is bewitched, Harry! It changes its location once every week or so. And, although I never choose the destination, I'm usually very satisfied with it . As I am right now. What would you say of taking a walk along the beach?"  
  
This was so new to Harry, and so unexpected, that for a few seconds he just stood in front of Dumbledore, his jaw dropped and his eyebrows raised. Then, finally, as if coming back to his senses, he asked Dumbledore:  
  
"But... how does it work? I mean - the Muggles! They must notice it, don't they?"  
  
"It's never happened to this day," said Dumbledore simply.  
  
"But - why do you keep changing places like that?"  
  
"Why, Harry, simply because I like travelling!" answered Dumbledore, a wide smile spread across his wrinkled face. "And also - I must admit - for safety."  
  
"For safety, sir?" said Harry, surprised. "But I thought that even Voldemort was afraid of you. How could you need any protection?"  
  
"No, I don't need any particular protection, Harry - although I am not, just the same, invulnerable: please do believe we are all equals face to threats such as Voldemort. But my friends sometimes find themselves in need of a safe shelter, and - as you will recognize - this house is the perfect hiding place."  
  
Harry could only agree with this statement. He then thought of something:  
  
"Is that... is that why I'm here right now?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled gently.  
  
"Well, for that and other reasons. Since you were with Sirius, and he has some business to discuss with me here, right now, we thought it was the most obvious thing to do - as Sirius will be coming back here anyway. And, well, we also thought it would be a good place to loose anyone who had tried to follow you when you left the Dursleys."  
  
Harry gulped - the Dursleys! He had completely forgotten about them.  
  
At once, he started to explain to Dumbledore his worries about them not being safe. He tried to not sound too eager, though, since he was speaking about his wretched relatives after all, and wasn't exactly sure of Dumbledore's reaction. However, Dumbledore gave him a look full of kindness - and did he also distinguish esteem? - before answering:  
  
"Sirius expressed to me your concerns about them. I've had that problem taken care of. They will be just fine, don't worry."  
  
Sirius. This reminded Harry of something else.  
  
"Sir? How will Sirius be able to find us if the house keeps moving?"  
  
"There are portkeys all over the country that are connected to my house, Harry. And Sirius knows where every single one of them is located." He stroked Phoenix gently on the chest, and continued, "As long as you stay here, and as long as Sirius is cautious, there's no reason for you not to see him again before you leave for Hogwarts. And even then," he added with a twinkle in his eye, "I have reasons to believe he'll be visiting you quite often this year."  
  
Harry's heart leapt ten inches in his chest: he was going to be seeing Sirius at Hogwarts! With the perspective of spending time with his godfather and knowing that his friends were safe, Harry felt he could really start enjoying the quite relaxing holidays he was spending with Dumbledore - although it did feel a bit odd to spend the holidays with your headmaster.  
  
  
  
The next few days went by peacefully - they changed location once again, and were now next to a small lake - and Harry had a lot of fun learning new spells with Dumbledore. He learned that the shrinking spell Sirius had used on his trunk was in fact the same one Mad-Eye Moody had shown him in the Defence Against the Dark Arts class the year before: 'Reducio' shrunk the object, and 'Enlargio' restored it to its normal size. Sirius was right, though: it was a difficult spell. It took Harry three whole days of practice and a lot of disappeared objects to finally master it.  
  
As pleasant as his holidays were, Harry couldn't help thinking about Sirius, and how much better they would be if only he were there with him. He actually started getting a bit worried when Sirius still wasn't back after five whole days. Dumbledore himself seemed troubled, but as he didn't bother talking to Harry about Sirius, Harry thought it better not to be the one to tackle the subject.  
  
One morning, a week after he had arrived, Harry was greeted by Dumbledore holding a small, filthy envelope.  
  
"For me?" Harry immediately asked.  
  
"Actually, it was addressed to me, but it concerns you," answered Dumbledore with a wide smile.  
  
"Is it from Sirius?" Harry asked again, full of hope.  
  
Dumbledore frowned slightly.  
  
"I'm afraid it's not from Sirius, but it still carries good news!"  
  
Harry was curious to know who could have written to Dumbledore concerning Harry other than Sirius. He was astonished when Dumbledore told him:  
  
"It's from Mr Filch."  
  
"Mr Filch? What did I do now?" Harry asked automatically.  
  
Mr Filch was the caretaker at Hogwarts; Harry was used to being in trouble whenever his name was spoken.  
  
Dumbledore chuckled.  
  
"I don't think Mr Filch would be as heartless as to punish you during the holidays, Harry. Anyway, I would certainly not permit it. No, Mr Filch has in fact been kind enough to inform me that your owl, Hedwig, has arrived at Hogwarts yesterday, and has been allowed to stay in the owlery until the start of term."  
  
Harry started - Hedwig! He had completely forgotten about her! He was used to her leaving for two or three days, but it had been an entire week and he hadn't even noticed her absence yet. He wondered why she had gone to Hogwarts, though? Of all places to stay... with Mr Filch!  
  
Dumbledore smiled and added, answering Harry's unspoken question:  
  
"That's a very clever owl you've got there, Harry... It knew that the best place to go and wait for you is Hogwarts. I believe it didn't come looking for you here because it knew it would be a danger to you. Very clever owl indeed!"  
  
With that, he turned around and headed for the terrace, where he started merrily trimming some extremely ugly-looking purple plants while whistling.  
  
Harry's enjoyable holidays began to turn into a nightmare when, after ten days of absence, Sirius still hadn't come back. Dumbledore seemed now positively alarmed at Sirius' silence. Harry could hear him mutter in his office or walking down the halls:  
  
"... portkeys all over Europe... Unless - no... He should have come back..."  
  
Dumbledore's concern over Sirius made Harry feel even worse: he had always thought that Dumbledore could solve any problem - and, even though he had seen him angry before, he had never seen him scared...  
  
The tension continued to build in Harry's mind over the next few days. Why wasn't Sirius back yet? And, although he kept asking himself this question over and over again, Harry dreaded the answer.  
  
One morning, while Harry was eating breakfast (he could find his way around the house fairly easily now) Dumbledore walked in and announced that Harry would be leaving to go stay with the Weasleys. Harry started at this unexpected news:  
  
"But Sirius isn't back, yet!"  
  
"Precisely," replied Dumbledore. "And the only point in you staying here was for you to see Sirius again. But as he still hasn't returned..." He paused for a second and sighed, but almost immediately continued, smiling, "I daresay you would rather spend the remainder of the holidays with your friends rather than with an old warlock like myself?"  
  
Harry protested that he had truly enjoyed himself with Dumbledore, but apparently his excitement at going back to the Burrow showed more than his appreciation of Dumbledore letting him stay with him because Dumbledore said, in a rather indulgent tone:  
  
"I thought you might like that arrangement. You will be travelling by Floo Powder, and leaving as soon as misters Fred and George Weasley are done experiencing the effects of their new Freezing Toffees on various body parts in the fireplace - I've been watching them in the Book of Seers. Unfortunately, they haven't had much success up until now, and I'm afraid that your sudden arrival in the chimney might have disastrous consequences..."  
  
Although still worried for Sirius, Harry was starting to feel excited at the idea of going back to the Burrow: he loved the Weasleys, and the Weasleys appreciated his company, something that Harry was not used to - and, he would be spending three weeks with his best friend, doing whatever he wanted, including playing Quidditch.  
  
But his heart sank almost immediately as he thought of something:  
  
"But - Professor? Won't I put the Weasleys in danger by going there? I mean, what if Voldemort is looking for me -"  
  
"Voldemort is looking for you, Harry; there's no point in denying that," interrupted Dumbledore. "But as long as the Book of Seers is in my possession, there's no possible way any serious harm could come to any of my students, as I can travel anywhere immediately in case of danger. And I assure you, Harry," he added in a very firm and somewhat menacing voice, "that I will never permit Voldemort or his followers to come near you or any of your schoolmates - or their families."  
  
An hour later, Harry was standing next to the chimney in Dumbledore's living room, his trunk once again safely tucked away in his pocket, waiting for Dumbledore to throw the Floo Powder into the fire. Finally, Dumbledore came down from his office and said that Fred and George were done with their experiences at last. Harry was eager to be at the Burrow, so he stepped at once in front of the chimney.  
  
"My, my, you seem rather impatient, Harry!" said Dumbledore as he took a handful of Floo Powder from inside an old boot.  
  
Harry realized that he was probably sounding impolite and quickly replied:  
  
"I'm not impatient to leave! I've had a wonderful time, here, really. I'm just... impatient to see my friends again."  
  
Dumbledore smiled at him.  
  
"And that's quite understandable. In fact, I would have been surprised if you had expressed the desire of staying any longer with me."  
  
Harry smiled gratefully at Dumbledore - he was glad that he understood how he was feeling.  
  
"Well then," continued Dumbledore. "I think it's about time for you to go. I imagine Mr Ronald Weasley will be most pleased to see you - his brothers have been giving him at hard time, this summer. I will, of course, inform you any way I can as soon as I have news from Sirius."  
  
There was a few seconds' silence, before Dumbledore finally said in a strangely emotional voice, "Good luck, Harry."  
  
He then threw the Floo Powder into the fire, which instantly turned emerald green, and after one last look at Dumbledore, Harry jumped into the flames.  
  
A few seconds later, he was thrown onto the hard ground in the Weasleys' kitchen. Before he even had the time to stand up, he slipped and fell flat on his face in surprise as a high-pitched scream coming from the yard pierced his eardrums. He got up at once and ran to the door, panicking: was Voldemort attacking the Weasleys?  
  
In answer to his questions, someone outside yelled:  
  
"George! You bloody...! Are you crazy?! Almost gave me a heart attack!"  
  
Harry came to a halt just outside the door and laughed in relief at the scene that greeted him: Ron was standing in the middle of the yard, broomstick in hand, clutching his heart, while the twins had both collapsed with laughter and were now rolling on the ground, holding their ribs. Ron turned around when he heard Harry and had yet another shock upon seeing his best friend standing in front of his kitchen door.  
  
"Harry!" he exclaimed running toward him. "What're you doing here?"  
  
"Spending the rest of the holidays with you!" answered Harry, grinning from ear to ear.  
  
He added in an undertone:  
  
"It's a long story, I'll explain later."  
  
Ron nodded, and, as if barely realizing Harry was there, grinned widely and said:  
  
"Blimey, am I glad to see you! Fred and George have been impossible this summer! Almost killed me twice! Last week they set off a Filibuster Firework right under my legs!"  
  
"I know!" said Harry, trying to suppress the urge of bursting with laughter.  
  
He saw Ron's puzzled look, and quickly added:  
  
"I mean... I can imagine that."  
  
He wasn't sure whether Dumbledore wanted him to talk about the Book of Seers to anyone, just yet.  
  
Just then, Fred and George, finally recovering from their fit of laughter, spotted Harry and started walking towards him, Fred still hiccoughing occasionally.  
  
"Here they come..." mumbled Ron.  
  
"Oy! Harry!"  
  
"Come to visit us?"  
  
George started mimicking Percy and said:  
  
"What a delightful surprise!"  
  
Ron rolled his eyes.  
  
"Care for one of our Screamers?" Fred handed Harry a multi-coloured piece of candy the size of a bubble-gum.  
  
"Uh..." hesitated Harry, alarmed by the look of warning Ron was giving him.  
  
"Each one of them'll make you scream in a different way - high, low, terrified, agonizing..." explained George enthusiastically.  
  
"For the joke shop," mouthed Ron.  
  
Harry wasn't exactly sure what to say: he wanted to avoid at all costs having to taste one of the Screamers.  
  
"Wow! You - you guys made those?"  
  
The twins puffed up their chest proudly:  
  
"Our latest invention..."  
  
At that moment, Harry and Ron were rescued by Charlie, Ron's older brother, who came walking into the yard. Harry raised his eyebrows:  
  
"Charlie! What're you doing here?"  
  
"Hello, Harry! I was wondering why you weren't here yet!"  
  
"You knew he was coming?" asked Ron in dismay.  
  
" 'Course I did," replied Charlie shortly, without worrying about the reproachful and somewhat hurt look on Ron's face. "Hope you travelled okay. I know Fred and George have been messing around with the chimney all morning - I tried to warn them that you were coming, but I think they were in too much pain at the time to actually listen to me. Freezing Toffees - honestly! They're still too weak to avoid the burning..."  
  
He shot a disapproving look at the twins, who, judging by the way they started laughing again, didn't mind the burns in the least.  
  
"I only hoped you wouldn't have any problems getting here," added Charlie.  
  
"It was fine, thanks."  
  
Harry grinned. He was glad Charlie was at the Burrow, but was intrigued nonetheless about the reason of his visit. "Aren't you supposed to be in Romania?"  
  
"Oh, right! Romania. Actually, I was already planning to spend a couple of weeks here during the summer, but after everything that happened with You- Know-Who, I decided to come home earlier," he finished in a low voice.  
  
Harry suddenly noticed a huge burn on the side of Charlie's head. It looked quite recent.  
  
"What happened to you?"  
  
"What? Oh, that..." said Charlie, running his hand over the burn, looking embarrassed, and yet quite amused. "Well, I came here right at the beginning of the holidays, and wasn't going to go back to Romania, but we had an emergency to take care of: Horntail attacking a whole village up in the mountains. Took us two weeks to sort everything out. Nasty one, that dragon was... Gave me this - it's barely started healing."  
  
He pointed at the burned flesh, and Harry couldn't keep from shuddering. He promised himself that he would never work with dragons - especially after the experience he had had with them the previous year. 


	5. The coming of Pickles and the Accidental...

Mr and Mrs Weasley weren't at the Burrow - Ron explained that they were in Diagon Alley with Ron's younger sister, Ginny, to buy her a pet owl, since she had been complaining that both Percy and Ron had one (the twins didn't want any - besides, even if they did, Harry very much doubted that the poor creature would survive very long in their care) - and Percy was working at the Ministry harder than ever, even though the death of his former boss, Mr Crouch, had struck him hard. So Harry, Ron, Charlie and the twins had the house to themselves all day long. They played Quidditch, several games of Exploding Snap, and Harry even accepted to taste a Screamer after insistent pleas from Fred and George - which he regretted immediately, as he let out a long howl that made him sound like a dog.  
  
Escaping the twins' jokes, Harry and Ron headed up to Ron's room. There, Ron sprawled himself across his bed, heaved a deep sigh, and shut his eyes for a minute. Harry guessed that Ron was getting a little stressed with everything going on at the Burrow, especially the twins playing tricks on him constantly (they had almost managed to knock Ron off his broom while playing Quidditch). Harry just looked out the window for a minute or two, feeling happy for himself, but sorry for Ron, who, Harry suspected, could probably do with a week of holidays at Dumbledore's.  
  
Dumbledore! He had completely forgotten to tell Ron what happened...  
  
"Ron! Hey, Ron!"  
  
Harry shook him vigorously by the shoulder.  
  
"Huh?" Ron started, and lifted his head to look up at Harry. "What is it?"  
  
"Were you sleeping?"  
  
Ron sat up in bed and rested his head on his knees, his gaze vacant.  
  
"No, just dozing off, I suppose..."  
  
"What's the matter?" Harry asked in concern.  
  
Ron sighed. "Oh, nothing, really... Just a bunch of stupid things..."  
  
He suddenly seemed to awake from his lethargic state, and started to talk very fast:  
  
"I mean, this is the worst summer I've ever spent in my entire life: I haven't seen Bill since the end of the school year, and mum and dad won't tell us what he's up to; Percy's been working at the ministry every single day for the past month, so he's never around - then again, that might be the only good thing that's happened to me so far; mum's acting very weird, sending dozens of owls, and always looking worried - she doesn't even scowl at Fred and George anymore, when they're making even more of a mess than usual! And last night was the first time I saw my dad in an entire week: he keeps disappearing all the time and barely even comes home anymore."  
  
When he was done talking, Ron drew in a long breath. It seemed as though he had been in need of sharing all this with someone for weeks, and now that he had, Harry was pleased to see, he looked a bit calmer, and very relieved.  
  
Harry patted him sympathetically on the shoulder and gave him an encouraging sort of smile. Finally, after a few seconds of awkward silence, Ron grinned back and said:  
  
"I'm glad you're here - don't think I could've made it through another three weeks without you. What took you so long? Why didn't you come sooner?"  
  
So Harry explained everything that had happened during the past ten days: Sirius coming to get him at Privet Drive, the goblins in the pub, Dumbledore's - amazing - house, and Harry being sent at the Burrow because Sirius hadn't come back yet. He told Ron about everything, even the biting books and Dumbledore's flowery apron (Ron let out a snort of laughter at this), but carefully avoided mentioning the Book of Seers.  
  
By the time Harry was done with the account of his holidays, Ron's mouth was opened so wide you could have fitted easily a dozen Ton Tongue Toffees inside it - but his face also expressed anxiety.  
  
"So - so, you haven't heard from Sirius since he left?"  
  
"Nope," Harry answered gloomily. "Dumbledore said he'll tell me as soon as he gets some news from him, but even he looked worried."  
  
"And - do you have any idea where he went, or what he's doing?"  
  
Harry shook his head. He suspected that there might be goblins involved, but didn't see how that could help them at all. Now he understood why Ron felt so depressed about his father's and Bill's absence: not knowing where Sirius was made his insides feel unpleasantly empty.  
  
"Maybe we could ask Charlie?" suggested Ron tentatively. "He might know something about Sirius' mission."  
  
Harry doubted it.  
  
"Or we could ask dad," continued Ron. "He works at the Ministry, I'm sure he knows what's going on."  
  
"Ron," interrupted Harry, "up until a few weeks ago your dad didn't even know that Sirius was innocent!"  
  
"Well... no... But you can still talk to him when he comes home - if he comes home..." Ron added dully.  
  
Desirous to change the subject, Harry looked around for something interesting they could talk about and spotted a poster where seven orange blurs kept zooming in and out of view.  
  
"Still supporting the Chudley Cannons, huh?" said Harry with a grin.  
  
"Yeah..." said Ron contemptuously, grimacing at the poster. "Who knows? They might end up winning a match one of these years."  
  
Harry enjoyed watching the team on the poster play Quidditch for a while, before Ron asked:  
  
"Who d'you reckon'll be the new Gryffindor captain, this year?"  
  
"Dunno... We need a new Keeper anyway, so I guess we'll have quite a few changes on the team."  
  
Oliver Wood, former captain and Keeper of the Gryffindor team, had left Hogwarts two years ago.  
  
Harry was eager to begin the Quidditch season at school. He was looking forward to everything: the practices, the games, and especially riding his firebolt, his most prized possession. He was just about to suggest going outside again and flying around a bit more when loud voices and rummaging downstairs told them that Mr and Mrs Weasley and Ginny were back from Diagon Alley.  
  
Harry and Ron went down to the kitchen, and found a harassed looking Mr Weasley, a scolding Mrs Weasley ("Why do you always have to complain about everything, Arthur?"), and a tired, yet very satisfied Ginny, who was holding in her arms -  
  
"A cat?" bellowed Ron. "Are you crazy? I hate cats! You were supposed to buy an owl!"  
  
"Well, mum and dad said I could buy a pet of my choice, right?" replied Ginny in a determined voice, although blushing slightly. "And since Hermione has Crookshanks, and he's adorable, I tho-"  
  
"ADORABLE?! That thing's a monster! It attacks everyone and everything!"  
  
"Yes, quite right, Ron," added Mr Weasley, his voice quivering a little. "I was trying to convince your mother..."  
  
His voice died off as his wife glared fiercely at him.  
  
"Honestly!" she huffed. "What is it with you? If I didn't know any better I'd say you were scared of cats!"  
  
"Well apparently she doesn't know better..." muttered Ron.  
  
Mrs Weasley placed a protective arm around her daughter.  
  
"Ginny made a very good choice. Pickles is sweet as can be!"  
  
"Pickles? You called him Pickles?!" exclaimed Ron while the twins exploded with laughter in a corner of the kitchen. "What kind of a name is that?"  
  
Ginny glared at Ron - a very good (and somewhat frightening) imitation of Mrs Weasley.  
  
Harry looked at the brown and white fur ball recoiled in Ginny's arms, and had to agree with the fact that Pickles was a very odd name for it indeed - Ginny had the knack to give pets names that didn't suit them at all.  
  
Suddenly, Mr Weasley noticed Harry standing by the door and walked toward him, thus putting a temporary ending to the argument.  
  
"Harry! Here already?" he said with a smile. He then asked his wife, "Was it today?"  
  
Mrs Weasley rolled her eyes and didn't bother answering - she went straight to Harry, gave him a hug and said, "Harry! How lovely to have you with us at last! Albus told us you'd be coming pretty soon. How are you, dear?"  
  
Harry freed himself from her grasp before answering that he was doing fine.  
  
"Well!" said Mrs Weasley. "It's been a long day..."  
  
"A very long day..." mumbled Mr Weasley.  
  
Luckily enough, Mrs Weasley didn't hear him, or in any case ignored his comment, because she continued, "Why don't you set up a table outside while I prepare dinner?"  
  
Setting the table turned out to be nothing short of a challenge, as gnomes kept running in between everyone's feet and Fred and George were throwing miscellaneous objects at whoever carried plates or glasses, forcing them to do the most extraordinary acrobatic figures to avoid breaking anything.  
  
During dinner, Harry couldn't help but to feel a bit sorry for Ginny, who was surrounded by the twins and Charlie (who, Harry was beginning to think, liked to joke around just as much as the twins did), and the only girl at the table. Which reminded Harry about Hermione - he hadn't received any letters from her because Dumbledore had told her not to send anything, but surely she had sent something to Ron.  
  
When Harry asked him about this, Ron frowned and said grumpily:  
  
"Yeah, she wrote to me - 'bout a couple of weeks ago. She says she's in Germany, visiting her aunt, but for some reason I don't believe her..."  
  
"Why's that?"  
  
"Well, she never mentioned an aunt, did she? Or German relatives? And I just don't understand why she'd spend a month and a half away from all her friends - us, namely," he said crossly.  
  
"But she is all right?"  
  
Harry wanted to make sure: the last thing he needed right now was another person to worry for.  
  
"Oh yeah, she's fine... Just fine..." answered Ron distractedly.  
  
Harry had a slight suspicion that Hermione might be spending the holidays with Viktor Krum, the Seeker for the Bulgarian Quidditch team, and a student at Durmstrang; he had a bit of a liking for Hermione, and had invited her, at the end of the school year, to stay with him over the summer. Harry found it amusing that this should make Ron upset. Nonetheless, he kept his ideas for himself - he didn't think Ron was in a mood for being teased, tonight.  
  
Percy came home shortly after everyone was done eating, and barely even took any notice of Harry or the rest of his family before going up to his room and locking himself inside.  
  
Mrs Weasley sighed sadly. "The poor dear... He's been working so hard! He must be exhausted. I'll go talk to him..."  
  
The twins seemed very happy indeed about spending a Percy-and-Mrs Weasley- free evening: they went up to their room and five minutes later brought back down a bag full of sparkling white toffees and settled themselves next to the chimney once again - Harry guessed they were going to continue experimenting their Freezing Toffees. Mr Weasley shook his head disapprovingly and sighed, but didn't say anything and went up to bed, beckoning Ginny to do the same. Charlie finally left too, after making sure the toffees had been somewhat improved since the last time they were tested. Harry would have gladly stayed to watch the effects of the Freezing Toffees and have a good laugh, but Ron kept yawning, so they decided to go to bed, leaving the twins to their inventions ("George, you don't reckon we could do the same for hair instead of body parts, do you?").  
  
That night, sleep came more easily for Harry than it had in weeks (part of it was due to the fact that the bed in Ron's room didn't keep on moving and bouncing all the time). Finally, he felt safe, finally, he felt welcomed and loved, and finally, he was with his friends. Not that it hadn't been that way with Dumbledore, but the Weasleys were just - different. They felt like family.  
  
  
  
A week went by, and Harry still didn't have any news from Sirius. He started feeling more and more nervous every day, until finally just thinking of Sirius made him feel sick with anxiety. It was a good thing there were so many incidents going on at the Burrow to keep Harry distracted: once, Ron stepped on Pickles, and the fit Ginny had thrown was enough to make anyone fear the skinny, apparently timid and fearful fourteen year old girl. Another time, the Weasleys had woken up to find Fred's and George's skin blue and bright pink, after a most unfortunate misadventure with some kind of new potion they were concocting: they weren't quite sure how it had happened, but were guessing they had put too much Magical Colouring Powder in their mixture, and didn't know how to fix it. They remained in their pitiful state for two entire days.  
  
Mr Weasley had been staying at home pretty often ever since Harry had arrived at the Burrow, which everyone was glad about, especially Mr Weasley himself. Unfortunately, one morning while they were eating breakfast, a figure not unknown to Harry abruptly burst in through the chimney. It was a tall, dark-haired wizard, probably in his mid-forties, who had just travelled by Floo Powder - and, judging by the state of his robes, this wasn't the first time he had done it that morning. He had big bags under his eyes, and when he addressed Mr Weasley, it was in a strained voice:  
  
"Arthur! So sorry to drop in like this..."  
  
"Mr Peasegood!" exclaimed Charlie.  
  
"Arnie! What're you doing here? And travelling by Floo Powder, too..."  
  
Arnie. Arnie Peasegood. Harry recognized the name. And then he remembered: he was a member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, whom he had met briefly at the Quidditch World Cup the year before.  
  
"We need help," said Peasegood urgently. "A whole group of Italian tourists tried to apparate into the National Quidditch Museum yesterday evening, but they all splinched themselves - blame that on all these damn curses... A bunch of Muggles spotted the different body parts all over the country, and we're going to need all the help we can get to sort this out - and I'm not even talking about the trouble we're going to have with the Italian Minister of Magic! He's heard what happened, of course, and he'll be arriving this afternoon. I daresay he'll want a word with our Transportation Department."  
  
Mr Weasley immediately got up and started to head for his room.  
  
"I'll be back down in a minute, Arnie."  
  
"I'm coming too," said Charlie, and he followed Mr Weasley up the stairs.  
  
"Excellent!" said Peasegood, as he looked around the kitchen at the other Weasleys and Harry. "Where's Percy?" he then asked Mrs Weasley.  
  
"Working at his office, still..." sighed Mrs Weasley. "I very much doubt he'll be able to come and help you."  
  
"Oh, I wasn't asking for that!" said Peasegood, almost apologetically. "I know you're already going to be short-handed with Arthur and Charlie gone, having to take care of this lot here. It's just - with everything going on, these days - we really need everybody's support. If I didn't know any better, I'd say You-Know-Who himself was back again! I will be glad when we've finally caught these trouble-makers..." he finished with a sigh.  
  
There was an awkward silence. The Weasleys and Harry all knew, of course, that Voldemort was back, but knew better than to say so.  
  
Just then, Mr Weasley and Charlie came back in the kitchen, each one of them carrying a small bag.  
  
"I don't suppose you know how long this will take, Arnie?" asked Mr Weasley as he pocketed his wand.  
  
Peasegood shrugged. "I have no idea. It could take a couple of days, or it could take weeks -" (Mrs Weasley shuddered at this) "which I'm hoping it won't..."  
  
Mr Weasley kissed his troubled wife on the cheek ("You look after yourself, Arthur! You never know what those Muggles can decide to do...") and addressed everyone sitting at the table:  
  
"Now you behave yourselves." His stare lingered on the twins as he said this. "We'll be back as soon as we can."  
  
He grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder from inside the flower pot next to the chimney, threw it in the fire and jumped into it, shortly followed by Peasegood. Charlie waved good-bye to everyone and went in after them. 


	6. TonTongue Toffees and thorn bushes

Life at the Burrow went on, even though there was no news of Charlie or Mr Weasley for several days, and Mrs Weasley, Harry thought, was becoming slightly hysterical. So everyone welcomed the owl sent by Bill saying that he would be coming home soon: change - any change - was good.  
  
One evening, Mrs Weasley announced that everyone would be going to Diagon Alley the next day, since the letters from Hogwarts had arrived and they needed all kinds of new material. Harry had read his letter earlier that day, and had been surprised at the amount of Defence Against the Dark Arts material and books they needed. He guessed this was probably one of Dumbledore's initiatives after Voldemort's return, and wondered how the students' parents would react.  
  
Percy, apparently, disapproved highly of Dumbledore's decision. Whenever he was home, he would complain about the howlers they had been receiving at the Ministry concerning the subject, as he did that evening:  
  
"A very unwise and inconsiderate decision, taken even after Mr Fudge himself specified not to change anything in the way the school functioned! And we're the ones who have to put up with the consequences, too! I don't think he even realises that he's way out of line."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes, and George exclaimed, upset:  
  
"Percy? Just shut up, will you?"  
  
"It's Professor Dumbledore you're talking about, sweetheart," intervened Mrs Weasley calmly. "Now, I like to think he's usually very aware of his actions, and that a respected wizard such as him doesn't 'step out of line' for no good reason."  
  
"There's no reason good enough to disregard the Ministry's orders," said Percy in a miffed tone. Fred looked at Harry in a way that showed very clearly he thought Percy's case was hopeless.  
  
  
  
The next morning, Harry, Ron, and the twins were getting ready to leave when Ginny informed them that Charlie and Mr Weasley were back at last. Everyone rushed down to the living room, where Mr Weasley was slumping down in a armchair and Charlie lying on the couch. They were in a very sad state indeed: they both looked exhausted and shocked, Charlie's robes were torn, and Mr Weasley had a black eye.  
  
"Muggles were getting out of hand," he was explaining to an anxious Mrs Weasley, who was hurrying back and forth between the kitchen and her husband and son, this time coming back with two cups of strong tea.  
  
"One in particular, he put up a fight!" added Mr Weasley, pointing at his black eye. "Seemed to understand we were going to modify his memory."  
  
"Getting all those poor tourists back in one piece was also far from easy," said Charlie with a grimace, massaging his head. "It took us a couple of days to round up all the body parts. The Italians were so angry, they kept cursing us when we had our backs turned - well, those who had their hands, anyway - until finally we had to take their wands away from them. Another thing their Minister's going to complain about..." he finished with a sigh.  
  
Harry was wondering what it would feel like to have part of your body in one place and the rest of it in another when he was distracted by Fred, who was muttering in George's ear something about wishing Percy splinched himself and left his head at work so that they wouldn't have to put up with it.  
  
"How dare you say things like that?" said Mrs Weasley indignantly, as Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and even Charlie all started laughing (Mr Weasley could only allow himself to emit a small chuckle). "Splinching is a very painful experience! I'd like to think you would never want that to happen to anybody, especially not your brother!"  
  
"Oh, no! Of course not! Especially not to perfect Percy..." said George sarcastically.  
  
"Now," continued Mrs Weasley, ignoring George's last remark, "your father and Charlie need some rest. Why don't you go outside? We won't be going to Diagon Alley until this afternoon - I'd rather stay here a while now that you two are back," she told her husband and Charlie, pushing everyone else towards the door and closing it behind them.  
  
"Well then, how about a game of Quidditch, Harry?" Ron asked. "Fred and George can play against us."  
  
"You sure that's safe?" asked Harry, remembering the way the twins had almost made Ron fall off his broom.  
  
"Oh come on, now, Harry!" said Fred, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Of course it's safe!"  
  
"We'll only play with the Quaffle," added George reassuringly.  
  
"O - Ok!" stuttered Harry, trying to free himself from Fred's grip. "Let me go grab my broom first."  
  
"That's right, Harry. You go get your broom and we'll get ours."  
  
There was something in the twins' tone of voice that made Harry feel very uncomfortable about going up in the air with them.  
  
Five minutes later Harry was down in the kitchen, where Ron, Fred, and George were waiting for him. They were all filling their pockets with sweets coming from a bowl on the table.  
  
" 'Arry!" said Ron through a mouthful of something very gooey and multi- coloured. "You 'ave to tashte theje!"  
  
The twins both nodded in approval and handed Harry a few of the sweets.  
  
"Definitely, Harry, try them: there mum's speciality!"  
  
Harry eyed the toffees suspiciously, as he was use enough to Fred and George's jokes by now to know that anything you touched or ate at the Burrow could be dangerous. His scepticism must have shown on his face, because Ginny, who came into the kitchen right at that moment, giggled and told him:  
  
"Don't worry, Harry. Mum just barely finished making them: I don't think Fred or George have had the time to hex them, yet."  
  
Ron grinned, or tried to grin, anyway: his mouth was so full that bits and pieces of chewed toffee flew all over the kitchen as he let out a chortle. Everyone laughed at this, and Harry, reassured, grabbed a handful of sweets.  
  
Harry and Ron teamed up against Fred and George, both sides trying to score in an empty barrel bewitched to float in mid-air, with the Weasley's very old, battered Quaffle. Ron evidently had less experience in playing Quidditch than the other three: Fred and George easily stole the Quaffle from him, and more than once he had trouble keeping his broom steady after one of the twins came zooming very close to him. Harry grinned and couldn't keep from laughing at the look of terror on Ron's face every time Fred or George came near him; the twins certainly were practical jokers, but they weren't that bad, Harry thought, as he reached into his pocket for one of Mrs Weasley's sweets.  
  
He was however immediately proved wrong: as soon as he had swallowed the toffee, his tongue started to feel numb, and his throat unusually tight. He felt like he might throw up and clapped his hand to his mouth, but there was no way he could stop whatever was coming. Half a second later something huge, viscous, and purple burst out of his mouth, and Harry immediately realised what had happened: Fred and George must have sneaked in some Ton- Tongue Toffees in the bowl of sweets on the table. His suspicions were confirmed as they both exploded with laughter at the sight of Harry and his over-size tongue. Ron, on the other hand, was surprised at first, and for a short moment looked as though he might laugh too, but instead decided to be angry at the twins and started yelling at them. Harry made a mental note to do the same as soon as he could talk again, but for the moment being, he wasn't even listening at what Ron was saying: he was far too busy trying to keep his balance and avoid suffocating.  
  
Unfortunately, even being an excellent flier, it's very difficult indeed to stay up in the air when your tongue is over six feet long and dangling to the side of your broom. Harry did the best he could to keep upright, but despite all his efforts, the weight of his now massive tongue kept pulling him to the ground, until finally he couldn't control his firebolt anymore, started nose-diving, and crashed straight into a huge thorn bush.  
  
It took him a few seconds to come back to his senses, and when he did, the first thing he took conscience of was considerable pain. Every inch of his body was aching and stinging and his tongue was entangled in the thorns. He then heard panicked voices coming in his direction, and the next second Fred and George were pulling him out of the bush and sitting him on the ground, not looking remotely amused anymore.  
  
"Harry! Are you okay?" Ron gasped. He was shaking from head to toe.  
  
Harry tried to say something but there only came an odd, muffled sound from his mouth, so he shook his head instead.  
  
"Really sorry about that!" said Fred, who was rather pale. "Didn't mean for that to happen..."  
  
"Well of course you didn't mean it, but you still did it!" said Ron angrily.  
  
"We reckoned he would eat it before we took off!" explained George defensively, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Besides, we weren't even sure he'd taken one."  
  
"You mean there are more in the bowl?" said Ron in an exasperated tone before taking his sweets out of his pocket and hastily throwing them away.  
  
Harry was in too much danger of suffocating - not to mention the fact that he felt like every single bone in his body had shattered - to listen to Ron, Fred, and George argue very long. What he wanted more than anything else right now was for his tongue to be back to normal. He grabbed Ron's attention by kicking him in the shin, and pointed at his swollen tongue lying on the ground at his feet. Ron seemed to get the message and turned towards the twins.  
  
"Okay, you two: fix it!" he snapped.  
  
Fred and George looked very embarrassed indeed. They glanced at each other before stuttering:  
  
"Well... er... we don't - we don't really know..."  
  
"Well, you see, we've never actually learned the counter-curse..."  
  
"Oh now that's clever!" sneered Ron, sounding extraordinarily like Hermione.  
  
Harry stared at the twins in disbelief: they didn't even know the counter- curse to one of their own jokes? It was simply an Engorgement Charm - Mr Weasley had said so before. Remembering Dumbledore's lessons, he desperately tried to explain to Ron and the twins that all they had to do was say 'Reducio' and his tongue would be back to its normal size, or at least tried to make them understand, but by now they had all started quarrelling again, so it was no use.  
  
Harry finally fell over on the ground because of all the extra weight his swollen tongue burdened him with, and at that moment Ron, Fred and George agreed at last that the only thing to do was to take him to Mrs Weasley, even if it meant a heavy scolding for the twins - which Harry, for once, thought they deserved. So Harry, scratched and bruised, made his way back to the house, with Ron helping him walk and Fred and George carrying his over-size tongue in front of him.  
  
  
  
The Ton-Tongue Toffee misadventure owed Fred and George the longest scolding Harry had ever witnessed. Once she had fixed Harry's tongue and made sure he didn't have any broken bones, Mrs Weasley rounded on the twins and shouted at them so loudly and fiercely, Harry thought she might as well have sent them a Howler. She was waving her wand carelessly in the air, threatening them with all sorts of curses, and in her fury, it accidentally emitted jets of red sparks that rebounded on the walls, brushed the top of Fred's head and narrowly missed George's ear. Harry and Ron fled the kitchen and Mrs Weasley's shrieks and went upstairs to Ron's bedroom. Harry had to change his clothes, as he was now covered with dirt, thorns, and blood. As he rummaged in his trunk to find clean clothes, he came across a letter Sirius had written to him the year before. Harry suspected Sirius had been somewhere in Africa when he had written this letter - he was in hiding back then, but he was also tranquil, he was safe. Safe. A lump came to Harry's throat when he realized it had now been over three weeks since Sirius had left and that he had still not received any news from him or Dumbledore saying when he would be coming back, and if he was all right. Harry stared at the letter blankly for a few seconds, and started when he heard Ron's voice over his shoulder:  
  
"You know, you still haven't asked Dad about him," said Ron, pointing at the letter. "I'm sure he knows something. I mean, he's working with Dumbledore - he's bound to know what kind of mission Sirius is on."  
  
"Yeah... Maybe..." muttered Harry, throwing the letter back in the trunk and grabbing a clean pair of jeans and a shirt. "D'you reckon I can go and talk to him right now?" he asked after a few seconds' silence.  
  
After all, Mr Weasley might be able to answer some of his questions, and besides, he really needed to talk to someone other than Ron, Charlie or the twins about everything that was happening.  
  
"Sure!" said Ron, while picking up cautiously one of Fred and George's experiment's phials that they had left on Ron's bed, which was filled with what looked like frog liver and definitely smelled like it. "I think he's still in the living room. Mum would probably have a fit if she found out, because he needs 'peace and quiet', but she's way too busy with Fred and George anyway. And he's alone, don't worry - I saw Charlie walk up the stairs to his room a while ago," he added, seeing Harry's uncertain look.  
  
Harry smiled gratefully at Ron and started descending the steps towards the living room. He walked discreetly past the kitchen, where Mrs Weasley was still shouting at the twins and had apparently hexed them with donkey ears, and knocked timidly on the living room door. He heard a feeble "Come in!", entered cautiously, and closed the door behind him.  
  
"Mr Weasley?" he said hesitantly. "Are you feeling better?"  
  
"Ah, it's you, Harry!" Mr Weasley said delightedly. "Yes, I am feeling a lot better now, thank you. I could do with some Pepperup Potion, but I'm sure by tonight I'll be feeling just fine. Come in, come in!"  
  
Reassured, Harry approached the moth eaten sofa and sat opposite Mr Weasley, who looked at Harry thoughtfully for a minute, then said in a meditative tone:  
  
"I've been meaning to talk to you ever since you got here, Harry. Unfortunately, as you may have noticed, I've been a bit - er - distracted, lately."  
  
Harry saw that despite his apparently jovial tone, he still looked very strained - hardly surprising, Harry thought, after almost a week of fighting hysterical Muggles and wizards. He gave Mr Weasley a weak smile and said:  
  
"I also have to talk to you about - er - something. That's why I came down here."  
  
"Really? Well then, you go first."  
  
Mr Weasley sat up in his armchair, waiting for Harry to start.  
  
For a few seconds, Harry could only stare at him, not knowing where to start, and wondering whether or not it was a good idea to talk about a terrible criminal like Sirius Black in front of a wizard who had learned to hate his very name. He was sure Mr Weasley knew by now that Sirius was innocent, but still - you couldn't easily erase the feeling of suspicion and fear when talking about a former Azkaban prisoner. He finally said:  
  
"I - I was wondering... I mean, since you're working with Dumbledore right now, against Vol- You-Know-Who..." He paused, wishing he wasn't so hesitant to speak; he knew he must sound ridiculous. "Well... Would you, by any chance, know where Sirius Black has gone and when he'll come back?"  
  
Mr Weasley frowned slightly, but his reaction was nothing like Harry had anticipated: he looked at Harry pensively, and his expression was not that of anger or fear, but concern and pity. He sighed deeply.  
  
"I was hoping we wouldn't have to talk about this. I was hoping Sirius would be back by the time you'd have come to stay with us." He sighed again.  
  
  
  
"What do you mean?" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet, his voice full of apprehension and dreading the worst; if he was reassured about Mr Weasley's apparently friendly feelings towards Sirius, he was alarmed at his reluctance to tackle the subject. "Is he all right? Did something happen to him?"  
  
"Well, we can't go as far as to say something happened to him - which, Dumbledore is quite certain, is not the case," intervened Mr Weasley soothingly. "But, as he has given no sign of life for almost a month now, and our allies have failed to find him, all we can do is hope the old adage is true: no news is good news."  
  
Harry slouched back down on the sofa, completely aghast at the news Mr Weasley had just given him. How could no news be good news? And if Sirius hadn't manifested himself in so long, how could they be sure he was all right? If even Dumbledore was worried beyond his wits, how could anyone possibly have any hope left of him being safe? He had expected, if not good news from Sirius, at least some sort of help, of explanation - but certainly not more worries.  
  
Mr Weasley looked quite appalled in front of Harry's crestfallen face.  
  
"Now Harry," he said firmly, "I think it's safe to say you would trust Dumbledore with your life, is it not?"  
  
Harry slowly nodded, without looking up.  
  
"Now, answer me this: do you honestly believe Dumbledore would have let Sirius - or anyone for that matter - go on a mission without first making sure it was as safe as it could possibly be?"  
  
Harry couldn't help but to smile gratefully at Mr Weasley's fatherly expression and concern, and, even though he still had his doubts, he nevertheless felt reassured that Mr Weasley, at least, seemed to think Sirius was going to be all right.  
  
"You said you also had something to tell me?" said Harry timidly, after a few moments' silence.  
  
"Ah, yes..." said Mr Weasley, his face growing darker. "Well, Sirius was actually one of the things I had to talk to you about. But there was also something else, something very important." He leaned forward towards Harry, and when he spoke, his voice was nothing more than a whisper. "With the new rise of the Dark Lord, we can fear that things will be just as they were fifteen years ago. Which means all of us, and you particularly, must pay attention to which people are our true allies, and which people turn out to be enemies."  
  
Harry stared disbelievingly: did Mr Weasley mean to say some of his friends could be traitors? He opened his mouth to protest, but Mr Weasley had apparently not finished yet, and now, he looked more serious than ever:  
  
"There's one particular warning I must give you, especially since you're going to Diagon Alley today, and Molly and I can do precious little to protect you if ever-"  
  
He was cut short by the twins bursting into the room.  
  
"Oy! Harry, time to go!" said Fred, walking over to Harry and pulling him up by one arm while George grabbed the other. "Mum's finally done yelling at us and we'd rather go to Diagon Alley and get away from her as quickly as possible..."  
  
"... before she has another sudden urge to hex us," continued George.  
  
"Notice the hairdo," said Fred matter-of-factly, pointing at his and George's heads, which were covered with what looked like purple worms protruding from their scalps.  
  
"Not that we don't like it," added George quickly and a little over- enthusiastically. "In fact, it's just given us an idea for a new joke!"  
  
Harry might have laughed at the sight of the twins' hairstyle if he hadn't been so anxious to know what Mr Weasley was about to tell him. Mr Weasley too seemed very bothered that Fred and George had chosen that very moment to interrupt their conversation. Harry saw him open his mouth in an attempt to cover the twins' loud voices, but before Harry could protest they had dragged him out of the living room and into the kitchen, where Ron, Ginny, and Mrs Weasley, still fuming, were waiting for them.  
  
Mrs Weasley reached for the flower pot containing the Floo Powder. Everyone gathered round her. She was about to throw a pinch of Floo Powder into the fireplace when she abruptly rounded on the twins:  
  
"Now I'm warning you," she thundered, pointing a threatening finger at them, "you two behave yourselves! I can't believe I still have to tell you this at your age..."  
  
"Oh, come now, Mum," said Fred in a conciliating tone. "We know better than to make fools of ourselves in public."  
  
Harry and Ron both snorted with laughter as the twins' hairdo conveniently chose that very moment to change abruptly from purple to bright green.  
  
"Okay, so maybe we don't mind making fools of ourselves," said George sheepishly, "but we won't do anything to embarrass you, Mum, we promise!"  
  
Fred and George gave Mrs Weasley their most angelic smile. Mrs Weasley opened her mouth to reply (probably to say that by embarrassing themselves they were embarrassing her as well, or that Bill, Charlie and Percy had never caused such problems), but instead, shot them a suspicious look and snapped, "Empty your pockets!"  
  
Fred and George started, but executed their mother's demand with good grace in front of her, while she was watching them closely. And, amazingly, the twins were hiding nothing inside their pockets, or their socks and shoes, or any other place they would usually have thought of to hide some Weasley's Wizard Wheezes so they could try and sell them in Diagon Alley. Harry knew of the twins' plans all too well, and was rather surprised that they weren't seizing this perfect opportunity to try and get a shop to sell their products.  
  
Just then, Charlie came hurtling down the stairs and burst into the kitchen.  
  
"Phew! Forgot about that bad step," he said, panting and massaging his leg.  
  
"What is it?" enquired Mrs Weasley, momentarily forgetting her inspection of the twins' pockets.  
  
"Oh, nothing!" said Charlie casually. "Just coming to say good-bye."  
  
Mrs Weasley stared at him doubtingly, but shrugged and turned back towards the fireplace. Harry saw Charlie approach the twins from behind and Fred put his hands behind his back.  
  
"You'll want to be careful about yourself," said Mrs Weasley suddenly, turning back towards Charlie. He and the twins immediately stopped moving and looked her in the eyes. "I mean, running down the stairs that way," she continued reprovingly, "when you're still exhausted and shaken from that terrible encounter. You should be resting!"  
  
"Yes, Mum, don't worry," said Charlie. "I'll go straight back to bed and take a nap for a few hours."  
  
Mrs Weasley cast one last worried look on her son's face before finally throwing the Floo Powder into the fire. During that split second, Charlie had discreetly handed each Fred and George a small bag, which they hastily stuffed into their pockets. Then they rounded on Ron, who was already standing in front of the fire place.  
  
"Okay, iclke Ronniekins, you go first!" said George as he and Fred shoved him forward, making his head bonk on the mantelpiece, much to Ginny and Mrs Weasley's dismay.  
  
"Ouch! Di- Diagon Alley!" Ron coughed, swallowing a mouthful of ashes as he tripped into the fireplace.  
  
Harry didn't want any more bruises than he already had because of his recent fall, so he hurried and leapt into the flames before the twins could push him in also. 


	7. A very loooong but necessary Author's No...

Hello faithful readers ! (if I still have any after these long months) ;-)  
  
Okay, so first I'd like to apologise for not having updated anything for such a long time - but, I do have a (fair few) valuable reasons:  
  
1. My computer was being a jerk;  
  
2. My computer decided it'd be a good plan to crash BIG time on me and lose half of my word documents (aka: my stories) which I hadn't been able to save on disk because my disk driver had been kaput for nearly six months (I'm still in mourning);  
  
3. My computer put up a three-month long struggle against my informatics- obsessed friend, which resulted in a "personal matter/war", as my friend called it, between him and my will-go-to-any-extent-to-remain-unfixable computer - three month long period in which I was unable to type anything I had written on paper;  
  
4. My computer is still being a jerk.  
  
But - as I suspect my computer will be a jerk until the moment comes that I finally summon up enough courage (or just plain weariness) to chuck it out the window, I've decided to just deal with it and manage as best I can, for as long as it lasts.  
  
Now, I've been typing and writing this particular story ever since I got my computer back (about two months ago) but I haven't been able to post it on here because when my friend took my computer away, he managed to save the remaining word documents that still were on my hard disk (and which included this story) and his hard disk, but forgot to put them back on mine when he gave it back to me. And since we're both the worst possible procrastinators/clumsy/disorganised people on the face of the earth, two months after getting my computer back, I still haven't got my word documents reinstated yet.  
  
But, now, with holidays coming up, it should (should, mind) only be a matter of days before I finally get it back and can fill in the gap (about a chapter-length part, I think) between the last part I had written before my computer crashed, and what I've been writing since then. So, as soon as I get my documents back and have dealt with that missing chapter, there should be lots of updating in perspective!  
  
Thanks for being so patient! And I will totally understand if you've given up waiting by now. But - well - bear with me! It won't be another five months gap between chapters, now, I promise!  
  
Oh, and on another note: if I so happen to still have readers, and if new ones stumble in, I'd really really appreciate it if you took the time to review me - not only to tell me what you liked (or disliked, for that matter) but also what you think needs improving - constructive criticism, in other words. Writers crave for this. Really, it's essential for a young would-be author to know what his flaws and weak points are - just as it is important for him to know what his readers do appreciate in his stories. Firey A. wrote a very complete column (well, complete enough for this site) about reviewing; it's definitely worth looking at! Now, because I started writing this story over a year ago (and just don't have the courage or *alas!* time to go back and edit it or even re-write complete parts of it I'm realising now sound horrible), I'd be positively terrified to read a review of the very first chapters of this story. But since then, I think - I hope - that I have improved a lot of points. But is that true? A vous de me le dire. (translation : you're the ones supposed to tell me that) ;-)  
  
Once again, thanks for your patience in reading this veeeery long author's note!  
  
And more updating SOON! Stalk me if I haven't posted anything by the beginning of next year. ;-) 


	8. Weasleys Wizard Wheezes at last

A/N: None of the here depicted characters are mine, they're all JK Rowling's, lucky her, and blah blah blah...  
  
:-D  
  
Well, it appears I've finally got my story on a roll again! I told you about losing half my word documents and waiting until I could get back what was saved - well, it appears my friend's computer decided to crash as well, and as a result, I lost EVERYTHING.  
  
BUT - this is where I marvel at my cleverness and see a tiny ray of hope for my absent-minded clumsy self - I remembered I had e-mailed myself most of my stories long before my computer died the first time. So, I was able to retrieve most of what was lost, and here it is now, THE NEW CHAPTER! Finally! LOL! After - four months? ;-)  
  
Well, enjoy it very much! And please let me know what you think of it - good AND bad.  
  
Personnal notes are at the bottom..  
  
*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*  
  
A few seconds later Harry landed right on top of Ron, who was still laying on the floor of the Leaky Cauldron, rubbing his head. Ron let out a loud groan and yelled at Harry for not being careful.  
  
"You could've waited a bit longer before following me!"  
  
"Well excuse me for not wanting Fred and George to do the same thing to me as they did to you..."  
  
A few people sitting at tables around sniggered at the sight of the two boys sprawled across the ground arguing. Ron's ears went pink and he stood up.  
  
"Guess we'll just have to get back at the twins," said Harry, wiping the dust off his clothes.  
  
"Yeah, like make them trip when they come out," said Ron keenly.  
  
Harry nodded his approval, grinning, and both of them placed themselves on either side of the fireplace, waiting for Fred and George. When, however, several minutes later, the twins still hadn't showed up, they gave up and went to sit at a nearby table. They ordered a couple of butterbeers to pass the time, but by the time they'd finished them there was still no sign of the Weasleys.  
  
"Do you think they missed the grate?" asked Harry.  
  
Ron shook his head. "Wouldn't have happened to all four of them at once. It's happened to me only once before, and I've been travelling by Floo Powder for years and years. No, I reckon they're still at home and mum's telling off Fred and George for throwing me in - or at least I hope she is..."  
  
Ron hadn't finished his sentence that two red heads emerged from the fireplace side by side, shortly followed by a third one.  
  
"What took you so long?" said Ron once Fred, George, and Ginny had overcome the dizziness of travelling by Floo Powder. "Harry and I were about to leave on our own and let you catch up with us."  
  
"Got an owl from Bill - just as we were about to leave," explained Fred excitedly.  
  
"From Bill?" exclaimed Ron. "What did he say? Where is he? Is he coming back?"  
  
"Well, that's why he wrote," said George, his eyes twinkling. "He's arriving at King's Cross Station at three o'clock this afternoon. We're going to meet him there to surprise him."  
  
"He's coming back? And we're going to meet him?"  
  
The twins nodded their heads in approval.  
  
"Three o'clock - that's in less than an hour!" said Ron happily. "Where's mum?"  
  
Fred sniggered. "Well, since we're going to get Bill, Charlie wanted to come too, but according to mum, he's 'completely out of his mind' and doesn't seem to realise how harmful it will be for his still weakened constitution to expose himself to the dangers of the crowd. They're having a bit of a squabble at the moment."  
  
They waited for another ten minutes for a disgruntled Mrs Weasley and a triumphant looking Charlie to arrive, then set off into Diagon Alley.  
  
"Now, we only have less than an hour until Bill's train arrives," said Mrs Weasley, speaking in a tone a little harsher than was probably meant; clearly she was still annoyed by her sons' lack of obedience. "So what I suggest we do, is go to Gringotts and get some money, for now, and then head to the station. We'll do our shopping afterwards."  
  
Harry always hated going to the bank with the Weasleys. Seeing their nearly empty vault made him feel most uncomfortable, especially since his was full to the brim with gold Galleons. Charlie, Fred, George and Ginny waited at the entrance of the bank ("You keep an eye on your brothers, Charlie!") and Mrs Weasley, Ron and Harry stepped inside, enjoying the cool air after outside's scorching heat.  
  
When the cart in which they rode stopped before the Weasley's vault, Harry avoided looking into it. The thought of it being hopelessly empty made Harry's throat feel tight. Barely a few seconds after the goblin had opened it, Mrs Weasley had already taken all the money she needed - or, more likely, all the money there was. Harry looked away when she climbed back into the cart.  
  
When they arrived in front of Harry's vault, he had to make a great effort to keep his composure. He walked up to the door, gave his key to the goblin, and filled his bag as quick as he could and stepped away at once: the sight of the huge pile of gold stored in his vault sickened him.  
  
He caught Ron's eye as he clambered back into the cart, but Ron quickly looked away, clearly trying hard to act casual. No one spoke a word as they rode back up to the first floor.  
  
The sun outside the dimly lit Gringotts building blinded them for a moment, and Harry had to blink twice before he saw Charlie and Ginny sitting on the marble steps in front of them.  
  
"Where are Fred and George?" Mrs Weasley demanded immediately.  
  
"Not far," said Charlie offhandedly, "just went to say hello to a friend." Mrs Weasley stared suspiciously at Charlie and Ginny, both of whom were avoiding their mother's gaze.  
  
"Oy! Charlie! Mum!"  
  
Fred and George were waving at them through the crowd at the end of the street. Harry noticed the direction they were coming from and remembered there was a sweet shop right down that alley. He highly suspected that the bags Charlie had handed them earlier were full of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and that they had taken advantage of Mrs Weasley's absence to try and sell some again.  
  
However, Mrs Weasley, perhaps tired of fighting with her sons, pursed her lips but didn't say anything. As soon as the seven of them were together they went back to the Leaky Cauldron, from which they would be going back into the Muggle world for a while. It was the only way of getting to King's Cross Station, apart from apparating, which only Mrs Weasley and Charlie were capable of doing.  
  
They took a Muggle taxi to get to the station. Ron, who was by far the tallest of the family, didn't understand why Muggle cars weren't more spacious and kept banging his head on the ceiling, while Fred and George complained loudly about the long traffic lines and how they could be skipping them if only the car were magical.  
  
By the time they arrived at the station, Mrs Weasley was fuming so badly Harry thought it was a very good thing indeed they got out of the car: her sons complaining and talking about magic in front of a Muggle had worsened her mood, and the suspicious questions the driver had started asking in the end most definitely hadn't improved it.  
  
"I can't believe you could be so irresponsible!" she burst out as soon as they were out of the car, not paying any attention to the stunned looks on the people around her - which was a bit rich of her, Harry thought, when she was reproaching that exact kind of behaviour to her sons. "Do you even realize what could have happened? Talking freely about magic in front of a Muggle! What he must have thought - "  
  
"Don't worry, mum," said Fred, alarmed by his mother's slightly hysterical behaviour. "You heard him: he thought Ron, George and I were insane and you were sending us to some hospital by train, is all."  
  
This didn't seem to comfort Mrs Weasley in the least.  
  
At last, fifteen minutes of scolding later, during which Harry, Charlie, and Ginny wandered around at a safe distance from Mrs Weasley and her sons (whose faces were as red as their hair) and the people staring at the scene, everyone finally entered the station, still followed by passer-bys' curious gazes.  
  
"Which platform is it again?" snapped Mrs Weasley.  
  
Charlie pulled out Bill's letter from his pocket and quickly scrutinized it. "He's arriving on platform... seven and half."  
  
Harry turned surprised eyes on Ron:  
  
"There are other platforms than nine and three quarters?"  
  
"Of course!" said Ron. "Hogwarts isn't the only place people go to by train. I wonder where Bill's coming from. Never told us where he was in all the time he was gone, and mum and dad didn't drop a hint either."  
  
"Well," said Harry, "it would have to somewhere in England since he's arriving by train."  
  
"Not necessarily," said Ron thoughtfully. "I remember this one time we went to get dad at platform four something, and the train he arrived on came straight from Africa. This one strange-looking bloke even threatened to turn me into a snail-eating leopard when I laughed because his wand was made out of bamboo."  
  
They soon arrived in front of the barrier between platforms seven and eight, and Harry wasn't surprised to see the access to platform seven and a half was the exact same as platform nine and three quarters.  
  
"All right, Charlie, you go first. No, Fred, George, you can't go before him. I don't want you out there without supervision for even a half second!"  
  
Mrs Weasley was being a bit harsh, Harry thought, as he ran next to Ron and through the solid barrier. After all, the twins were seventeen years old, and they might be unpredictable and sometimes annoying, but to embarrass them like that before Harry and the rest of the family was a bit unfair.  
  
Platform seven and a half was packed with wizarding families. Harry had never witnessed so much hustle and bustle on a train platform before: important-looking wizards draped in long cloaks were discussing between them and regularly taking out their pocket watch to complain about trains always being late, young witches kept pulling out of their handbags anything from Melany Melon's Most Marvellous Mascara to entire chest of drawers in which they'd start searching frantically for new clothes, wild- looking warlocks were reading the Daily Prophet and quite often would suddenly rip out an entire page and slash it to shreds while crying out indignantly, and exhausted parents were trying to keep an eye on their luggage at the same time as going after their small children, who were running in between people's legs, knocking over luggage and cursing each other with fake wands, and in some cases, Harry noticed, real wands they must have nicked from their parents.  
  
The Weasleys and Harry settled themselves as close to the rail as they could to wait for Bill. The whole Weasley family all looked impatient to see their brother again, although none as much as Ron. He kept craning his neck over the crowd to try and spot the train coming.  
  
"Come on," he kept muttering. "The sooner he gets here, the sooner Fred and George'll get off my case."  
  
Harry stifled a laugh. Ron, while possessing a very strong sense of family, as did all Weasleys, saw nonetheless in his brother's coming an opportunity to get away from the twins for a while, more than anything else.  
  
"Aha! Here it comes!" Ron exclaimed suddenly.  
  
Harry climbed up on a bench beside him and saw, in the distance, the shimmering tower of smoke escaping from the approaching locomotive.  
  
There was a great turmoil as the crowd drew back from the rails. A scarlet engine not unlike the Hogwarts Express' came slowly into view. When the train finally came to a stop some fifty feet away from where the Weasleys and Harry were standing it was immediately assaulted by eager witches and wizards, to the great disarray of the ticket officers.  
  
"Ladies and Gentlemen, please! Let the passengers get off the train before boarding it! Ladies..."  
  
Harry watched in interest as a scrawny little witch set down a bag twice her size on the edge of the stairs descending the wagons and distractedly knocked it over on a officer's foot while blowing her nose.  
  
"Where's it coming from?" asked Ron eagerly, standing on the tip of his toes to try and get a peak at the train, but just at that moment a particularly large warlock stepped in front of the sign hanging on the locomotive's door that indicated the provenance, and Ron, tall as he was, couldn't see the name written on it.  
  
"There he is!" squeaked Ginny all of a sudden, pointing at a red-haired young man who stood out over the crowd by nearly five centimetres.  
  
The crowd parted to let through six impatient Weasleys while Harry followed behind, and for a few minutes there was quite a commotion surrounding the lot.  
  
"Bill!"  
  
"Finally you're back!"  
  
"Couldn't've written, could you?"  
  
"Where are you coming from?"  
  
"Was the trip long?"  
  
"How about a nice toffee?"  
  
"George!!"  
  
Their nice reunion lasted until a harassed-looking ticket officer came over and asked them to free the platform for the upcoming train and its passengers.  
  
"Hullo there, Harry," grinned Bill, finally managing to escape his mother's grasp. "Hope those terrible brothers of mine haven't been too much of a bother?"  
  
Harry grinned back. "I think you need to ask Ron that question."  
  
"Tell me about it," said Ron loudly. "I've been dying waiting for you to come back, you're the only one who can control the bloody gits!"  
  
"Ronald Weasley! I never - "  
  
"How long're you staying, anyway?" Charlie asked hastily, seeing the look of urgency on his youngest brother's face and wishing to distract his mother's attention.  
  
Bill's ears reddened slightly. "Actually, I - I have to be leaving again tomorrow..."  
  
Indignant cries met this announcement.  
  
"But you haven't been here all summer!"  
  
"Just got back today!"  
  
"Now then, darling, see here," said Mrs Weasley reasonably, as though trying to make her grown-up son come to sense. "I know you're probably much needed in view of this new - situation, but is it really necessary you sacrifice the time you should be spending with your family?"  
  
"Mum," said Bill, his eyes widening and his ears redder and redder every second, "you know what Dumbledore said... We've already talked about this."  
  
Both him and Mrs Weasley looked at the rest of the family staring at them.  
  
"But, I - well, we'll discuss this later," Mrs Weasley finally agreed. "In the meanwhile, I suggest we all enjoy our afternoon!"  
  
"Are these all your luggage?" asked Charlie, swiftly taking hold of a large bag lying at Bill's feet while everyone started making their way toward the barrier through the still crowded platform.  
  
"I'll carry this one with Harry," said Bill, and he grabbed the other end of the trunk Harry had started to lift but immediately put down, still feeling sore from his fall in the backyard.  
  
"Harry, I have word of Sirius Black for you," Bill whispered in his ear as they started following the others at a distance.  
  
Harry nearly dropped the trunk. "You - you do? Where is he? Is he all right?"  
  
Bill indicated by a finger on his lips and a look at the crowd surrounding them that Harry shouldn't talk too loud, then continued, "I've just been to see Dumbledore: he's received a message from Sirius saying he's fine and should be coming back soon. Apparently he's had some trouble communicating, which is why no one heard from him for so long - wizarding networks and chimneys been tampered with, nothing's too safe anymore..."  
  
Harry barely heard the end of Bill's phrase. He felt as though he could have screamed for joy right where he was, in the middle of a train station packed with hundreds of busy wizards, most of whom recognise him instantly if he drew attention to himself.  
  
Bill smiled at him. "Dumbledore told me you'd probably be eager to hear the news."  
  
"Are you kidding?" Harry exclaimed. "I've been waiting for nothing else since I got here!"  
  
"So he's your godfather, is he?" asked Bill as they started walking again, and now in a much more serious tone. "Hasn't been cleared, though. What a pity... I never knew the whole story. I was quite shocked when I heard it, of course."  
  
Gloom settled in Harry's stomach as he thought that even though Sirius was safe, he was still in constant danger from the Ministry - and most of all, the Azkaban guards, even if Cornelius Fudge had sent them back on their island over a year ago - but Harry didn't allow it to linger for long. He had just received the best news he had in a long time, and wasn't about to show himself ungrateful for it.  
  
The journey back to Charing Cross Road was much less eventful than the first. They rode in a Muggle taxi again, but this time, perhaps because both eldest brothers were there and managed to keep their turbulent brothers under control, everyone was particularly careful about what they said in front of the driver and actually enjoyed speaking in riddles to try and communicate with each other. Everyone except Ron, who spent the trip looking out the window, brooding the whole time. Harry thought he was probably upset about Bill announcing he'd only be staying for one night at the Burrow - add that to the fact that he had managed to cross his mother yet again when he accidentally bonked his head while getting in the car and let out an exceptionally nasty curse, and Harry wasn't surprised in the least by his friend's bad temper.  
  
In the Leaky Cauldron, Mrs Weasley distributed a few silver Sickles to each of her children before they crossed the magical gateway that led into Diagon Alley. They all agreed to meet in the pub two hours later and then left in different directions.  
  
Harry and Ron first went to buy their new school equipment, which was mostly composed of Defence Against the Dark Arts material and books: The Rise And Fall Of The Dark Arts by Quentin Trimble; Why You Should Never Trust Anyone But Yourself and 1001 Ways Of Recognising A Foe by Alastor Moody; Some Of Today's Most Feared Curses And How To Fight Them by Academeus Prune; and Dementors: The Secret Behind The Hoods and What To Do When You Run Out Of Chocolate by Clarissa Giddyon.  
  
They went by the Leaky Cauldron to drop off their newly acquired school books and then spent the rest of their time strolling through the curved alleys. They bought black-berry pie flavoured ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, which Ron only ate half-heartedly, and Harry spent a fun moment plucking out the feathers of a turkey which re-grew them instantly in the Magical Menagerie before the old lady at the counter said there were enough turkey feathers on the floor.  
  
Ron was muttering non-stop under his breath ("Couldn't be a single child, like everyone else! Or at least be born into a normal family...") and glaring at everything that happened to be within his eyesight. And unfortunately one of the things Ron spotted in the midst of the crowded street turned out to be none other than -  
  
"Malfoy..." Ron groaned.  
  
Harry's eyes shot toward the direction Ron was glaring at. Malfoy was standing at the entrance of a shabby-looking shop and had apparently noticed Harry and Ron as well. He stared at them for a moment or two, and Harry was already preparing himself to grab Ron's robes in case Malfoy came over to nag him, but Malfoy abruptly turned around and walked away quickly in the opposite direction.  
  
"Now why would he want to miss a chance to be his truculent old self?" asked Ron, dumbstruck.  
  
"Dunno," shrugged Harry, quite puzzled. "It was almost like he was avoiding us. What do you reckon he's up to?"  
  
"Knowing Malfoy, nothing good," muttered Ron, and he resumed his former attitude, glowering at everything from people chatting to the smudge on his shoe.  
  
His mood was most definitely not improved when a tall cloaked wizard walked straight into them, making his way between Harry and Ron, and bumping painfully into Harry's arm as he did so.  
  
Harry had to hold Ron back with both arms to keep him from going after the man, but barely managed to: Ron was fighting fiercely, and the man had bumped into the arm Harry had fallen on earlier, which was badly bruised and scratched. He gritted his teeth as Ron sent his aching arm flying into the air while struggling to get away from him, still cursing and shaking an angry fist at the cloaked wizard.  
  
"You bloody-.!"  
  
"Ron!"  
  
"What...?"  
  
Charlie and Bill had just turned around the corner and were coming to meet them. They both looked surprised.  
  
"What's going on?" asked Charlie, watching Harry tug on Ron's shirt with a sceptic yet undoubtedly amused look on his face.  
  
Ron got rid of Harry's grip and straightened his clothes. "Nothing," he said hotly, the tip of his ears reddening. "Just mind your own business, will you?"  
  
Bill frowned. "Ron, what is it? You've been like this ever since we left the train station."  
  
Ron didn't answer. He just kept brushing off his clothes needlessly, sulking.  
  
Bill came closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Look, Ron..." He sighed, and paused for a moment, as if unsure what to say. "How about you and I go for a quick stroll?"  
  
Ron looked up at his older brother with an expression of half reproach, half gratitude. He finally nodded and Bill and him walked off, after telling Harry and Charlie they'd go straight to the Leaky Cauldron afterwards. Charlie watched them go for a while, then turned to Harry, a broad smile on his face.  
  
"So, Harry - they say you're an excellent Quidditch player, and from what I've seen when you're on a broomstick, that compliment isn't even half worthy of you. How about a nice, professional, Quidditch conversation between Seekers? Want to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies and see what's new?"  
  
Harry's expression lightened up immediately, despite the dull throbbing he still felt in his arm where the man had hit him. "Yeah, I haven't been in there for ages! That way I can buy a new polishing kit."  
  
"And I can show you a few things worth seeing in there, that not everyone knows about," added Charlie with a conniving smile.  
  
Harry had a most enjoyable time looking through articles in the shop and discussing techniques and anything Quidditch related with Charlie. It turned out Charlie knew the owner of the shop (a burly man called Oregon Winbourne) very well, and him and Harry were showed into a room that appeared magically when the door behind the counter was opened a certain way, where the owner kept all of his extra supplies - and, as Charlie showed Harry, a few other useful things that weren't displayed in the shop.  
  
"Far too hard to find, and useful only to talented players who're serious about Quidditch," explained Winbourne to Harry as he proudly showed him a collection of books written by famous Quidditch captains years and years ago, High-Quality Gripping Gloves that enabled you to fly single-handed and secured you well onto your broomsticks ("Helped the Appleby Arrows win in 1932: it was raining so hard the opposing team all slipped off their broomsticks - they won by forfeit since they were the only ones left up in the air..."), aerodynamic robes specially designed for Seekers riding high- speed broomsticks, and Hex Detectors you could stick on the end of your broomstick that warned you in case an opponent was about to curse you while the referee wasn't watching.  
  
"I don't sell these to just anyone," continued the owner, "but I know Charlie here'd be good enough to play for England if only he'd spend his time chasing Snitches instead of dragons, and I trust him enough to know that if he says you're good then you must be. But that's doesn't surprise me: your father already was a damn good player if ever I knew one."  
  
"You - knew my father?" said Harry astonished. This man was most definitely a lot older than his father would have been now.  
  
"Mostly by reputation," said Winbourne. "But I saw him playing more than once with friends of my sons; we former Quidditch players like to keep on top of things - always keeping an eye out for young talents... And if you're half as good as young James was, I reckon you also have a future in Quidditch."  
  
He beamed at Harry who felt himself go red in the face, and threw a reproachful sideways glance at Charlie, as if still holding a grudge against him for not becoming a professional player.  
  
Fifteen minutes before the settled meeting time in the Leaky Cauldron Harry and Charlie left Quality Quidditch Supplies, their arms full of robes, books, polishing bottles and Endurance-Enhancing Potions ("For players who've got fanatic captains...") the owner had insisted on giving them for free. Harry panted under the weight of his load, trying to keep up with Charlie's quick pace.  
  
"We've got one more place to stop by before we head back to the Leaky Cauldron," said Charlie, and he turned into a twisted alley convergent to the one they had just been in.  
  
"Uh, Charlie?" gasped Harry. "Could you - give me a hand?"  
  
Quite apart from the fact that he had much to carry, Harry's arm was hurting terribly again. Cursing silently the wizard that had so carelessly bumped into him as well as the twins for making him fall in the first place, he handed Charlie half of his load and they set off again.  
  
They soon arrived in front of Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, and Harry understood why they had come when he saw Fred and George inside discussing with a middle-aged man wearing bright orange robes and a hat that looked like a clown's. Harry was strongly reminded of Ludo Bagman, the eccentric and boyish Head of the Magical Games and Sports Department at the Ministry. The twins must have spotted their brother and Harry outside, because they seemed to be wrapping up the conversation and were now sharing a hearty handshake with what Harry guessed must be the owner of the shop.  
  
Charlie grinned conspiringly at the twins as they came out.  
  
"So - how'd it go?"  
  
Fred and George looked at each other. They were obviously so excited they didn't know where to begin.  
  
"Well - " started Fred, bouncing from one foot to the other, a grin from ear to ear.  
  
"We did it!" exclaimed George, barely containing his joy. "We showed him everything, all we brought with us, and he wants it all!"  
  
"He wants everything?" repeated Charlie, looking just as excited as the twins.  
  
"Yeah, we showed him the lot - " Fred pulled out of his pocket the two small bags Charlie had handed the twins at the Burrow and proudly displayed their contents in front of Harry and Charlie. Amongst them, Harry recognised a Canary Cream and some Screamers, as well as various other sweets unfortunate Hogwarts students had effectively tested the years before. "Of course, we said we were just proposing different items..."  
  
"... that he didn't have to pick them all..."  
  
"... that he didn't even have to pick any if he didn't want to but that he'd obviously be loosing the opportunity to make the best deal in his career..."  
  
"... but he liked every single one of them! Look, he's having fun with one of our wands right now -"  
  
George pointed at the orange-robed man, who was manipulating one of the twins' fake wands. A jet of something thick and white shot out of it and splattered all the windows in the shop. The owner looked delighted.  
  
"Ah, yes, that's the Whipped-Cream Shooter model, isn't it?" said George, giving a small wave at the owner.  
  
"He's kept a few samples of those," said Fred. "Wants to show them to his associate - reckons they could try and sell them elsewhere as well."  
  
"Of course," said George, "he can't let us work with him yet - in the shop, I mean. We have to finish school first. But he says as soon as we're done he'll help us get started - just as long as we agree to continue supplying him with our products."  
  
"In the meanwhile," said Fred in a very business-like manner, "he wants us to provide a stock of fake wands, a barrel-full or Wart Sprouting Caramels and fifty pounds of Screamers by the time we leave for Hogwarts; he liked those best."  
  
They beamed at Harry and Charlie, who both grinned back - although, Harry thought, Charlie was probably smiling because he was happy for the twins, while he himself was trying hard to stifle his laughter as he thought of what households in Britain were going to look like if the twins ever had as much success as they were hoping.  
  
Suddenly, Harry was brought back to reality by a fresh jolt of pain in his arm. He had forgotten how much it hurt. He thought of asking Mrs Weasley for another potion when they got back to the Burrow but immediately pushed that idea out of his mind: it was only a scratch, and he didn't want the Weasleys and especially Ron to think he couldn't handle a bruise or two.  
  
"Harry, you all right? You look pale."  
  
George was staring at him in concern, and Charlie had made a move to take the rest of his things out of Harry's arms, but Harry held them back.  
  
"I'm fine," he said. "The heat just got to me for a second."  
  
"You sure?" asked Charlie. "Now that I think of it, you've been looking kind of off-colour since we left Ron and Bill earlier."  
  
"Look, I'm fine, really."  
  
Harry was furious with himself: he'd had worse injuries than those caused by a thirty-foot fall off a broomstick, after all. He blushed as all three Weasley brothers kept staring at him in mild confusion and worry.  
  
"Isn't it time to get back to the Leaky Cauldron?" he said, hoping this would distract them long enough for him to be able to regain his composure.  
  
"Blimey, we were supposed to be there ten minutes ago!" exclaimed Fred. "Mum'll kill us, she wanted to get back home to dad as soon as possible."  
  
With that, they all set back to go find the others, and Harry's arm, to his great relief, was spoken of no more.  
  
*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*^^*  
  
Ashley - thank you to my most faithful reader! LOL! Probably the only reader that was patient enough to wait those long months.. I appreciate your reviews very much! And don't worry - they WILL be getting to school before too long, if all goes well.  
  
Carrie - hey you! Nice to see you found your way on here! Most of the regulars are reading on the other thread. And I'm afraid that with the kind of slow writer I am, you're going to have to be quite patient. But I promise to try and hurry! ;-)  
  
Moonlight-Muse - aww, thanks! LOL! Especially fort the 'excellent humour'. Humour is definitely not what's going to dominate in this story later on, but there are some lines I do care for particularly.. Especially involving any and all Weasleys! Thanks for the pointer about spelling - I usually pride myself on it, but English isn't my maternal language, and it's very possible I've made quite some grammar/spelling mistakes. I appreciate your opinion! 


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